


Write Your Letters in the Sand

by Queen_of_Moons67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Love, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Codependent Winchesters, Dean Needs A Hug, Dimension Travel, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e21 All Hell Breaks Loose, Episode: s03e03 Bad Day at Black Rock, Episode: s03e11 Mystery Spot, Episode: s09e23 Do You Believe in Miracles?, Episode: s11e17 Red Meat, F/M, Gadreel Possessing Sam Winchester, Gen, Hallucifer, Hurt Sam Winchester, Lucifer Possessing Sam Winchester, Lucifer's Cage, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessed Sam, Sam Winchester Detoxing From Demon Blood, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Soulless Sam Winchester, Time Travel, Worried Dean Winchester, Worried John Winchester, Worried Sam Winchester, as new chapters are posted, lots of Winchester hugs, sammy close your eyes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2018-10-12 16:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 30,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10494690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_of_Moons67/pseuds/Queen_of_Moons67
Summary: Eighteen year old Dean Winchester, his father, and his younger brother get a surprise when an older version of Sam appears in their motel room. Then he disappears, and an older version than the last appears. And it keeps repeating, over and over again, and their glimpses into the future show no sign of stopping. Not your usual time travel fic.Chapters 1-25: Part I 'For So Many Years Have Gone'Chapters 26-36: Part II 'A World So Newly Born’





	1. Stanford Sam, Pre-Series

**Author's Note:**

> I've read a few SPN time travel fics where multiple Sams go back in time, showing his and Dean's past selves and his father how he changes through the years. I can't remember who wrote them, but thank you to the writers for giving me the inspiration for this (and the motivation, considering none of them ever got past a few chapters).
> 
> Each chapter will be a different Sam, and they're all of varying lengths. For example, this first chapter is 2k+ words. The shortest one yet is only 68. I have eight chapters written already, and 15 more planned after that (and more to come as SPN itself continues). I'm planning on publishing one every week or two, so you readers get a constant flow of updates and I get time to continue writing so that those updates never stop for a long period of time.
> 
> The title of both the story and the two parts come from Queen's song "'39".
> 
> I do not own Supernatural.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

"Samuel Winchester!" The shout rang through the area, carrying to the short fourteen year old marching angrily across the street from the open motel door. "You get your butt back here right now! If you don't, I swear I'll -"

"You'll what?" the boy spun around, his I'm-so-mad-at-you-I'm-ignoring-you-for-the-rest-of-my-life stance finally breaking. "You won't let me play in the big game on Saturday? Oh wait!" The hysterical laugh almost made John flinch, but he stood strong. "You already are! And why?! Because we're leaving! For the fourth time in two months!"

"Sam…" the father's voice was softer, his hands out in apology. He knew when to retreat in battle so that winning the war was still possible, and now was one of those times. "I'm sorry, son, I really am. I know how much this meant to you, but -"

"MEANS!" the screamed word reverberated in John's ear. "Means, Dad, because it's not like the moment you said we wouldn't be here I stopped caring about it!"

John narrowed his eyes and straightened his shoulders, preparing himself for a bigger fight. It looked like retreat was no longer an option. He watched his youngest son square himself, fully prepared to face the charging bull. He opened his mouth, but he didn't get a single sound out before a loud crashed echoed behind him. At once, and in what was an almost eerily similar way, John and Sam abandoned their fight in favor of investigating the noise.

"Dean," the father called out, knocking on the door he had slammed shut in an attempt to rid himself of some anger. "Dean, are you alright in there? What happened?"

Rolling his eyes, Sam pushed his elder out of the way even as he pulled a key from his pocket. "Honestly," he muttered, and then stared angrily at John's back as the man stepped protectively in front of his son. "Dad," he complained.

"Stop it," John turned around long enough to glare and snatch the key. "We don't know what's going on, so I'll go first."

Sam huffed, then peered around his dad and stepped through the now open doorway, past his older brother standing with one hand still on the knob. "Thanks Dean," he said cheerfully. "So, what..." The younger brother stared in shock.

"What?" John questioned, trying to look around the tall figure of his oldest. He didn't have to wait long, as Dean hurried to Sam's side and poked him.

"Easy there shrimp," Dean joked. "You can put the knife away. I don't think he's a danger."

"What?" Sam tore his gaze from the gigantic man lying on the bed he shared with his brother. Said brother cocked an eyebrow, reached out, grabbed Sam's right wrist, and pulled it up to show the knife clenched between white knuckles. "Oh," Sam said numbly, staring at it. He hadn't even realized his reflexes had automatically taken it out of his boot sheathe.

"What happened, Dean?" their father demanded, closing the door and stepping further into the room than his boys were, carefully making sure he was between them and the stranger.

Dean shrugged, but his frown belied his easy stance. "One minute I'm alone, the next Bigfoot over there is standing next to the table. Or, well, sitting in a nonexistent chair. He fell back, hit his head on the table. Knocked himself unconscious, so I dragged him over to the bed."

"And?" John asked, testy with an unknown factor in the supposed-to-be-safe motel room.

Dean shrugged again. "Didn't have time to test him. But… Dad… I think he's a hunter. He looks familiar, and not only that, I found an iron knife and a gun with silver bullets on him."

Sam frowned, studying the puzzle, and Dean coughed to disguise a laugh as their dad did the same thing. "Get the rope, Sam," John ordered. "I want him secure in a chair when he wakes up."

Under normal circumstances, Sam would have argued. But these weren't normal circumstances.

* * *

Sam woke up to the bite of a knife in his forearm and a throbbing head. He groaned, and tried to remember what had happened. He had been studying… and then suddenly his chair was gone and his brother was there… except he somehow looked younger… and… and… he was missing something… "Jess!" Sam cried, eyes shooting open and lurching to his feet. Or at least, he would've, if he wasn't apparently tied to a chair. "Ugh… Dean…" he groaned. "Dean, this isn't funny." Sam paused, trying to understand where he was, and in that moment he could have sworn the temperature plummeted twenty degrees. Then he got a face full of liquid - probably holy water, he thought fuzzily, but why was he being tested? - and promptly turned his attention elsewhere. Specifically, the gruff familiar voice barking in his ear.

"You don't talk to him, you talk to me. Now," a callused hand grabbed his face roughly, pinching his cheeks and tipping his chin up, "how do you know his name?"

"Wha-…" Sam blinked blearily, trying to get the holy water out of his eyes. "Dad? Wha… what are you talking about?" He finally succeeded in clearing his vision and stared up at his dad. Standing right behind John was his brother. "De?" he questioned, trying to hide his embarrassment that in what was apparently a concussed state, combined with confusion and now a little bit of fear, his tongue automatically reverted the call to a childhood nickname. "De… when did you get so short? And…" he started to shake his head, then stopped as a spike drove through his scull. "Dad… where'd…" Sam coughed, trying to clear his dry throat. "Where'd that scar go? The… the new one… though I guess it's not so new anymore."

"Dad?" A new voice spoke, one that sounded vaguely familiar to Sam. "What do you mean, 'dad'?" A teenage boy, shorter than Dean and definitely familiar, moved into Sam's line of sight while ignoring John's glare.

"Wha…" Sam blinked, trying to get his mind cranking again. "What?"

"What?" John snapped, turning his gaze back to Sam. "And answer the question. Why are you calling me 'dad'? I only have two sons, and you aren't one of them."

Sam flinched. He couldn't help it.  _If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back!_  He had tried his hardest to forget those words, to ignore them, to shove them behind a wall in his head and never hear them again, but it hadn't worked. And now… he suspected what had happened, as unbelievable as it was, but even that knowledge couldn't soften the blow. "But I am," Sam said quietly, so quietly that the other three in the room had to lean forward to hear it. "As crazy as it sounds, I think I time traveled. I think I'm in the past, which means that I'm from the future." At least, Sam thought to himself as he watched the faces in front of him stare at him in shock, the emotional blow had temporarily overcome the pain of the concussion.

* * *

"He's lying," Dean said, letting the words out as soon as they reached the opposite side of the motel room of the 'time traveler.' "Time travel doesn't exist, and if he's telling the truth…" If he's telling the truth, then Dean has been watching his little brother suffer, completely capable of helping and choosing not to.

"But that's exactly why he's telling the truth," Sam argued. "Why would he claim he time traveled if he didn't? Nobody would ever believe him."

John hmmed under his breath. Both his boys had good points, but… "There's only one way to know for sure," he decided, and marched back over, steeling himself on the way. He understood where Dean was coming from. If this person was telling the truth, then John has not only been watching his baby suffer, but also adding to his pain. Then John has slid a knife across his son's flesh without an ounce of hesitation or regret. Then John has denounced his baby in the harshest way possible.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts, John stopped in front of the stranger. Sam. The man. His son. Resisting the urge to shake his head again to clear the confusion, John squatted in front of… the person. "If you are who you say you are," he began softly, carefully keeping his temper out of his voice, "Then tell me something only the real Sam would know."

* * *

Sam squinted at his father, doing his best to school his face through the concussion and keep his surprise to himself. Of course his dad was willing to hear him out, to be gentle. His youngest son hadn't dealt him the Betrayal yet. But what… "Umm…" Sam muttered. "Uh… what would…" His eyes squinted more, trying to concentrate.

* * *

Dean flinched as the man before him had to focus so much it showed outwardly. If this was truly Sammy… his little brother… he could barely entertain the thought.

"My twelfth birthday!" the tall man blurted, drawing Dean's attention back to him. "You," he looked at Dean, "gave me a new hunting knife. With my initials carved into it. But I opened the box too eagerly, and brought it out too quickly, and it slipped and gave me this scar." He wriggled his right pinky finger where Dean, when he leaned in close, could see a thin white scar identical to Sammy's. Dean nodded to his dad, unsure how to face the realization that this was actually his younger brother, and then paused and barely resisted a groan as John gave him a look that clearly stated, "We're going to talk about this later."

* * *

Sam blinked as his young self glared at him and Dean almost groaned, before groaning to himself. Right. They had been keeping that a secret from their dad, since he hadn't been there. Oops. He guessed the concussion was worse than he thought, if he was spilling stuff like that. But wait… if he was in the past, then... "Jess!" he cried out again, eyes widening. What had happened to his girlfriend? She had been with him, and now she was gone. Was she in the future still? Somewhere in the past? Was she ok? What if something worse had happened to her?

* * *

"Sam?" John asked, brow furrowing as his son was unresponsive. He had been startled at the sudden shout - who was 'Jess'? - but worry trumped that when Sam suddenly just stared past him. Was it the concussion? He glanced at Dean as his eldest moved forward, squatting down beside the time traveler.

"Sammy?" Dean inquired, worry clear in his voice.

"Sam?" The younger version asked, obviously concerned for his future-self. "Who's Jess?"

John, fingers touching the rope to begin untying the man at the same time his youngest son spoke the name, startled as Sam suddenly came back to them.

"She's my girlfriend." The three words were said so matter-of-factly that, had they still thought Sam was lying about everything else, John would have believed this. "I… I'm going to propose soon." And those five words automatically halted all thought processes in John's brain. Or at least, they did until his son disappeared from right in front of him.

* * *

"What the-!" Dean shouted, pivoting on his heels and nearly loosing his balance as he looked around wildly. "Where did he go?"

"I think the better questions are," the remaining Sam pointed out, "Why and how did he come, and why did he return to the future?"

"Maybe we changed something?" John wondered.

"And did he even go back to his own time?" Dean added. "What if he went further back? We don't remember it, so if he did he didn't return to us. Or he went back to before we existed."

"All of this is making my head hurt," John grumbled.

" _Your_  head?" Sammy exclaimed. "I'm the one who's proposing!"

"Yeah, and-" Dean started, only to halt and stare as a bright light shone in one corner of the room.

"Dean?" John questioned, looking from his eldest to the light and back again.

"That's what happened when future Sammy appeared," Dean told him anxiously.

They all stared at the light, but none of them were prepared for what happened next.


	2. Pilot Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Chapter two is here. :D
> 
> I do not own Supernatural, and I hope you enjoy.

_"Dean?" John questioned, looking from his eldest to the light and back again._

_"That's what happened when future Sammy appeared," Dean told him anxiously._

_They all stared at the light, but none of them were prepared for what happened next._

* * *

"No! Jess!" Sam screamed, straining against his brother as he fought to run back into the burning room. "Jess!  _Jess!_ " As the name ripped through his throat, his restraints suddenly vanished, sending him stumbling to his knees. He stared around, wild-eyed, as in the same instant the flames and his girlfriend disappeared. " _JESS!"_

* * *

The Sam that appeared next, in terms of physical features, looked the same as the last - same age, somewhat longish hair with bangs, etc. - and yet, he was vastly different. Lunging forward against invisible arms, John's future son fell to his knees as an inhuman scream filled the air, and the three in the present shared horrified glances as they realized it took the shape of his girlfriend's name.

Stumbling forward, Dean did the only thing he could think of in the moment - he fell to his knees, gathered his big younger brother in his arms, and held him as he sobbed until the moment Sam shifted awkwardly. "Wha-… why are you so short?" the man muttered, realizing that his neck hurt a lot more from resting his head on his brother's shoulder than the last time they hugged.

Dean lifted the corner of his mouth in a half-smile, unable to muster a full one as he wondered what happened to make his brother scream like that. "Uh… you're back in the past. Again, I mean. You left and then 'poof'! You were back. How long has it been for you?"

Sam's eyes widened as he whispered, "I thought it was a dream."

"Sam?" John interrupted. "Sam, what happened? You…" he flinched, aborting a short motion to touch his son's shoulder, afraid of causing more pain. "You burnt your arm. And those bruises weren't there before, either."

Future Sam laughed - an ugly laugh, sharp and grating - and choked, "A ghost and the Demon. Or at least, I'm assuming it's the Demon. She burned-" Sam's breath hitched, but he continued, "She burned like Mom did. She - Jess - I…" John's eyes were wide, his hand a tight yet welcome grip on the shoulder of present Sam. Keeping them both grounded. "I couldn't save her…" The tears came again, the shock of the past too small a dam to hold forever, and Dean held his brother until the moment he disappeared.

* * *

"So much for proposing," young Sam whispered, and John's grip tightened further.

* * *

When Sam arrived back in the present, it was collapsed in older Dean's arms as he dragged him away from the flames. Breathing deeply, all his tears spent in the past, Sam stood and made his own way out. He knew it would simultaneously freak Dean out and cause him worry - him no longer crying and screaming and seemingly holding all the emotions in - but at the moment, Sam honestly didn't care.

Dean obviously didn't remember him going to the past, though he didn't remember meeting a future him either, which could be for a multitude of reasons - someone somehow took their memories of the event, the time travel created an alternate universe, there was no time travel involved at all and it was just straight up an alternate universe - but him telling Dean about it could have adverse consequences neither of them knew about or could prepare for.

At the same time, nothing suspicious happened in the present when he time traveled. He appeared exactly where he was before - albeit in a new position - with no time passing, which meant Dean didn't think anything was wrong besides sudden unhealthy mood jumps. Until Sam knew more, or it became too dangerous not to tell his brother, Dean would be kept in the dark. That was just the way it was going to be.


	3. Special Child Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter happens during season one at an unspecified time after Sam tells Dean about the visions.

The next Sam came clutching his head, mumbling "De" under his breath, eyes closed tight against the light.

"Sam?" Dean asked. "Sam? What's wrong?"

"Don't joke 'round, De," he moaned, stopped the shake of his head too late. "Wh're 're the meds? I know you slipped some from the hosp'tal."

At this, the people from the present shared what they were beginning to suspect was just another in a long line of worried glances to come - one, because when Sam started lisping and slurring his words he was in real pain, and two, at the implication that this had happened before and was expected to happen again.

"Sam?" John asked, gently guiding his youngest to the motel bed farthest from the door while motioning for the younger Sam to fetch pain meds from the kit. "Sam, you're in the past again. Can you tell me what's happening? What do you need?"

"Dream," Sam panted, rubbing circles so hard into his head Dean suspected it did more harm than good.

"No, Sam, we established this last time, remember? We're real," their father reassured, squeezing future Sam's shoulder in case he needed physical proof.

"Not you," Sam groaned. "Coming. Migraine. Vision."

"What?" John barked, while Dean groaned because of course future Sam got migraines, and young Sam pressed Advil and a glass of water into his older self's hands.

"It's complicated," the giant sighed, taking advantage of his younger older brother moving closer to rest his head on his shoulder. He had learned long ago that at the perfect angle, his own head fit perfectly in the crook between Dean's neck and shoulder without hurting his neck. This was different, of course, his brother even shorter than him in these trips than he'd ever been. But it was close enough; all he had to do was adjust the angle slightly.

John sighed, but left it alone as he moved to the other side of the room to silently observe the three. He feared the day he suspected was closer than he'd thought - the day he learned his baby boy would destroy the world. If these future Sams kept coming back, he dreaded how Dean and his Sam would react.

* * *

Dean only knew when Sam went back to the future when the warm weight disappeared from his shoulder. He looked to Sammy, slumped in the corner processing the new knowledge of his life to come, and to his father, scratching hard words into his journal while his hand rubbed his head in much the same way Sam had tried to dispel the migraine, and he straightened his shoulders, steeled his spine, and stared at where the next future Sam would appear.

He tried not to be scared of what might come next.


	4. Meg&Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter happens during 2x14, "Born Under a Bad Sign".

By the time the next Sam came, it had been so long they were starting to think he wouldn't.

* * *

Meg growled in annoyance as the tug kept fighting to take Sam - and through him, her - somewhere unknown. This wasn't part of the plan, but then again, neither was letting Deano know her game this early. And - Meg groaned, nearly biting through Sam's tongue as the tug became particularly vicious and actually jerked his body backward. Enough was enough, she decided. She'd go to wherever this tug wanted her to go and get the hell out of there the split second the tug disappeared.

* * *

When he did appear, they wished he hadn't. He was only there for a moment before he disappeared again, but in that moment they could tell it wasn't Sam. It was his body, but those black eyes weren't his, and they didn't want to know where the blood soaking his clothes came from.

* * *

Meg was beyond furious after seeing where she ended up. One glance, and she knew the tug had pulled Sam's body almost ten years into the past - younger Dean, tiny Sam, and John alive had been enough to know that. Now she could only hope that a single glimpse of future Sam - if they even knew it was him, maybe this was a one time thing, but considering her luck she doubted it - and his demon black eyes didn't change the future. She liked this game far too much to give it up because someone else messed with time.

* * *

No one said a word; not a single glance was shared. They just kept waiting, together, in silence broken only by the occasional slam of a door or the sound of a car's engine as it drove by, for future Sam to appear again. ~~Praying that he would and wasn’t gone forever.~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So an explanation, cause I never directly state it in the chapter: Sam doesn’t feel anything when he’s pulled back in time. It appears, and gets exponentially stronger over time, when he resists. Meg, because she’s a demon, automatically resists the magic / grace / I’m not yet revealing what takes Sam back in time so I’m just throwing out options here; resisting it is in her nature.


	5. All Hell Breaks Loose Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and support you all are giving this story, especially considering how short the chapters are right now. I'm gonna have to ask you to wait one more week, but then the chapters start getting longer.
> 
> This chapter features All Hell Breaks Loose Sam.

One minute, Sam was stumbling towards Dean as fast as he could move while injured. The next, there was a sharp pain and he was staring at a younger version of his brother.  _Weird_ , he thought,  _the time travel thing's never hurt before_.

* * *

Dean had thought future Sam possessed by a demon was bad, but future Sam collapsing to his knees like his strings had been cut was even worse. He heard a tortured scream - "No, Sam!" - and it took a moment to realize it came from himself as he lunged to his knees in time to catch his older little brother. His arms wrapped around his too big body, felt Sam's head fall onto his shoulder, found the blood on his back. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Sam. Sam! Hey! Hey, hey. Come here. Let me look at you." He broke off, had to crane his head over Sam's too high shoulder to look at the knife wound severing his little brother's spinal cord. "Hey, look at me. It's not even that bad. It's not even that bad, all right? Sammy? Sam!" Dean leaned back, tried to catch his eye, but Sam's head swayed from side to side. "Hey, listen to me. We're gonna patch you up, okay? You'll be good as new. Huh? I'm gonna take care of you. I'm gonna take you care of you. I've got you. That's my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother?" Dean touched Sam's face, ignoring the fact that this little brother was too old, too big, would disappear in a few minutes, and what would happen then? What would happen if Sam died in the past? Would his body disappear back to the future? Would it stay here? Would he have to bury his little brother and then watch him grow up, knowing he would die in a few years, unable to change it? "Sam? Sam! Sam! Sammy!" His too big little brother's face relaxed, his eyes slipped closed, and suddenly Dean found himself supporting, if possible, even more weight than before. "No. No, no, no, no, no, no. Oh, God. Oh, God." Dean rocked back and forth, back and forth. He didn't notice the shaking callused hand on the shoulder not holding Sam's head. He didn't notice the perfectly small body press against his back as its owner buried his head in his knees, unable to watch himself die. Dean only noticed his baby brother, dead in his arms for a moment - and then his body disappeared. "SAM!" *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Yes, I directly transferred Dean's words and actions from "All Hell Breaks Loose Part One" when Sam dies for the first time into the fic. Without mercy. I swear it was all heat of the moment (no, not that Heat of the Moment, that comes later).


	6. Bad Day at Black Rock Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone supporting this story in various ways!
> 
> This chapter features "Bad Day at Black Rock" Sam.
> 
> I do not own Supernatural, and I hope you enjoy.

John didn't know what to think. One second he was wondering when Sam would come back evil, and then he was coming back possessed, and then he was watching his baby boy bleed to death after some coward knifed him in the back. Sam - his strong, independent baby boy - died because someone didn't have the courage to face him in a real fight. He never got to marry, or hold his own kid in his arms, or grow old. Some coward took that from his son, and so John would take it from them. He didn't care how impossible it seemed. Somehow, he would find out who murdered his son. He didn't care how he did it, psychics or demons or anything else. If, by some impossibility, he didn't find out… well, he'd just have to count on future John to do the job for him.

His hand clenched around Dean's shoulder again, knuckle-white, but his eldest didn't protest. He just kept staring, broken-eyed, at the spot Sam had faded from. At where the blood had been. They all did - John, Dean, and Sam; just kept staring at where, one day, Sam would disappear to to die. And then the white light came again, and Sam stood there good as new.

John and Sam stumbled backwards, shouting, while Dean fell back, stunned. "Sammy?" the older brother whispered.

"Dean?" the future man blinked, took a moment to study them - and hide the flinch upon seeing his dad, alive, and knowing he couldn't change a thing - and then asked, "I'm in the past again?"

"You were dead," John stated, seemingly calm, but his sons could see the storm raging underneath; whether it was at Sam's killer, or his fury at not knowing how his son still lived, or both they didn't know. "How are you alive?"

"What?" Sam blinked. "How do you know -?"

"You came here," young Sam said quietly. "Before you died."

"How are you still alive?" Dean rasped.

Sam stared around at his younger family. He'd hoped that they would never find out about Dean's deal, hadn't realized dying in young Dean's arms hadn't been a dream, hadn't realized he would either have to lie or - "You," he nodded at his young older brother, smiling sadly. "I'm alive because of you. Older you, that is."

Dean just kept staring at old Sam, mind whirring, trying to figure out what he meant. What could old him have done that he hadn't? But John breathed in once, sharp and loud in the silence, and future Sam nodded a 'yes' to the question he saw in his father's eyes.

"How long?" John asked. His son hesitated, and he demanded, " _How long?!_ "

"A year," future Sam whispered, closing his eyes. "He got a year."

John snarled, moved to leave, but the man his son would become moved to block him and - somehow managed to  _slip_  on the phone cord, his long limbs flying everywhere as he fell to the ground, taking out two chairs that John could have  _sworn_  were no where near him. In the wake of the comical act, all the three present Winchesters could do was gape.

"Uh… Sammy?" Dean asked. "You ok?"

"I'm cursed," came the response, muffled under one giant, the phone, two chairs, and the cushions.

"It's not that bad," John grumbled, barely resisting from rolling his eyes.

"No, uh… I'm literally cursed," Sam said as he lifted himself off the ground, righted one of the chairs, and gingerly sat on it as if he expected it to disappear from underneath him. "Someone stole a lucky rabbit's foot off me. It's why my knees and hands are scraped up, why I keep tripping over things, and uh… it's why I'm missing a shoe." Sam lifted his foot off the ground and waved it - sure enough, shoeless - in the air as proof. Quite frankly, John was more surprised at this point that Sam didn't fall over again than the fact his future son stood before him wearing only one shoe.

"Wait!" Dean cried, suddenly excited - whether or not it was actual excitement, or trying to distract himself from how Sam was still alive, John didn't know. "Rabbit's feet are  _actually_  lucky?!"

Future Sam nodded. "Yeah, if you -" He disappeared in a white light.

"Oh, come on!" Dean cried, throwing his arms up in the air.

John side-eyed him, but said nothing. If his son was going to be so distracted by Sam being cursed by a missing lucky rabbit's foot that he wasn't going to interrogate John, John wasn't going to argue with him.

Sam looked at his father studying his brother, and tucked the moment away in a mental folder. Sooner or later, he would figure out what his father knew that they didn't.


	7. Mystery Spot Sam

Sam stared at his blood covered hands, bangs half covering his eyes. His neck ached from the downward angle, and the cold of the tile seeped into his folded knees, but the pain of his position barely registered over the horror and shock of seeing his brother die for the countless time. In the past weeks, he had added falling piano, mauling by golden retriever, electric shock, and more to the number of ways Dean had died, and now he could add the large kitchen knife that had, somehow, slipped from the fingers of the diner's chef and flown across the room to land solidly in his older brother's chest. Just missing his heart, it had still severed an artery, and in minutes Dean lay on the floor with Sam's fingers splayed across the wound in a failed attempt to keep him from bleeding out. "De," he choked, but his brother couldn't even muster up the strength to smile one last time before his eyes slipped shut. Sobbing once, holding himself together by threads rubbed thin from all the deaths, Sam allowed his own eyes to close as he braced himself for "Heat of the Moment".

It never came. Instead, the hard tile turned to slightly softer carpet. He wasn't anywhere near a bed, let alone lying down on one. His hands weren't miraculously wiped clean of his brother's blood. And Dean's voice asked shakily, "Sammy?"

The eyes he had slowly closed moments before flew open as he propelled his body up and forwards into his older brother's, wrapping his arms tightly around the warm body. Burying his head in the juncture between neck and shoulder, it was easy for Sam to pick up the steady - if slightly fast - heartbeat and relax.

* * *

Dean staggered as the full weight of future Sam collapsed on him. "Sammy?" he asked again, trying unsuccessfully to wriggle free so he could see his brother's face.

"His hands are covered in blood," young Sam noted quietly, causing Dean to freeze and the gigantor hugging him to, if possible, tighten his grip.

"Sam?" John questioned quietly, studying as much of his son's face as he could see, trying to decide if he looked a year older than when he died, if his other son was in hell. "Sam?" he asked again, louder than last time, and the boy - young man, he corrected himself - finally looked up, giving his father a good look at his face. John sucked in a breath. If he had to choose one word to describe how his son looked, it would be haunted. That, or blessed - it was as if Sam couldn't decide which to be.

* * *

"Dad?" Sam knew his voice wobbled, but he couldn't help it. He'd been able to conceal how happy he was to see his father alive again the last time, but he hadn't been raw from watching his brother die over and over again then either. Feeling a tear slide down his cheek, he buried his face in Dean's shoulder to try and hide it. He couldn't decide if he wanted to clutch his brother - alive, Dean was  _alive_  and not about to die because Sam squeezed too tight and accidentally suffocated him (it hadn't happened yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time) - or abandon all pretense and run to his father, hide himself away in his arms as if he was four again and his father had finally returned a week late from a 'business' trip.

* * *

"Sammy?" Dean asked, moving carefully backward to sit on the motel bed with his older younger brother. "Can you tell us what happened?" He felt his back growing wet, and his heart clenched - that was too far down to be the tears wetting his shoulder, which meant when his younger younger brother had said his older self's hands were covered in blood, he meant they were covered in a  _lot_  of blood.

"Sammy?" Their dad asked softly, and Sam drew back from Dean completely in shock that one, his dad had called him 'Sammy', and two, that he had asked anything softly. "What happened son?"

Breathing deeply to calm himself, and surreptitiously wiping away his tears as best he could with his upper arm to avoid smearing Dean's blood all over his face, future Sam straightened his back and got to business. "I'm stuck in some kind of time loop where, every day, Dean dies and I wake up again in the motel room. Like  _Groundhog Day_ , but with death."

"Like what?" John asked, confused.

"It's a movie where the main character keeps repeating the same day over and over again," young Sam said, too distracted by the fact that one day he would have to watch Dean die time after time - that all that blood was his older brother's - to actually look at his dad. "How… how many times?"

Future Sam shook his head. He knew the exact number, but he didn't want his young self or younger older brother to grow up facing that. "Too many," he finally said.

"And you don't know what's causing it?" Dean rasped, subtly shifting closer to both Sams.

The elder shook his head again. "At first I thought it might be a real Mystery Spot, but now… I just don't know. I've torn that place apart, gotten us physically out of town, studied every moment of every day, but the Tuesdays just keep on coming and I…"

To Dean and young Sam, the hesitation meant nothing. Oh, John knew they knew it meant something, but they had no idea exactly  _what_  it meant. But he was their father - no matter how old they got, or if his youngest eventually became evil, he would always be their father - and considering what he knew about the future, that hesitation meant everything. "Dean, Sammy, out," he ordered, glaring at his two present children to be clear which Sam he meant.

Old Sam flinched, and Dean wrapped an arm around both Sams in a rare refusal, and John sighed. Stepping forward, he squeezed his future son lightly on the shoulder and dragged him up, pushing him towards the bathroom. "Out," he repeated, glaring back at the two still on the bed, and only entering the small space after the two had left.

* * *

Future Sam had sat on the toilet, hunched over with his hands clenched together between his knees, white under all the blood. His head was bent, but as John closed the door behind him he looked up. The expression on his son's face nearly took John's breath away - less blessed, more haunted, with a hint of fear, though of what the eldest Winchester couldn't say. "Get up," he ordered gruffly, then more softly, "Let's get that blood off."

At that, Sam stood so quickly and abruptly that he swayed on the spot. When John reached out to help, though, he shook it off and moved the short distance to the sink. Twisting the knob in one shaking hand, he grabbed the bar of soap and scrubbed furiously. John waited a moment, then said quietly, "Sam, seeing your brother die once a day for eternity is not the way to escape the deal." Ignoring the shocked choking sound, he continued, "It's not fair to Dean, and it's not fair to you."

Straightening, Sam reached for the towel and dried his hands as he turned to face John. "Do you really think I would do that? Deny Dean what's left of his life? Do you think I  _enjoy_  watching him die every day?"

"No," John shook his head. "I think it's tearing you apart. But I also think that you're considering interacting with your brother for the rest of eternity, even at the cost of all it comes with, if it means you don't see him die for the last time. You haven't decided yet, and you're still fighting that possibility you can, but if you don't figure it out soon you will give in. You might even consider it the only real choice you have left. And that is something you must never do. Do you understand me, son?" He reached out and, allowing himself the comfort and thrill of it for once, tugged his boy into a hug. "You can't ever do that," he whispered. "I can't lose you both." It was something that John would normally never admit, but in this case it was necessary. In this case it was a low blow that might just save Sammy. "I can't lose you both, you hear me?"

"I hear you," his son whispered back before he disappeared, leaving John holding nothing but air.

* * *

John said nothing to his children, just opened the door to indicate they could come back in. He was too busy praying silently in his head, begging the angels his wife had believed in to look after future Dean and Sammy.

* * *

Sam opened his eyes to "Heat of the Moment" and held back a sob. He would stay strong. He would find a way out of this time loop. Sam would save his brother.


	8. Detoxing Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who haven't seen 4x21 "When the Levee Breaks" with detoxing Sam recently, a bit of an explanation for the state he's in: Sam was tied down in the panic room hallucinating various people, including Dean and his past self, hurt and encourage him in their own various ways.
> 
> I do not own Supernatural.

_Previously: John was too busy praying silently in his head, begging the angels his wife had believed in to look after future Dean and Sammy._

* * *

This time, when future Sam came, nothing appeared to be wrong at first glance. He appeared lying down on the bed, but quickly stood up. His eyes roved around the room, pausing on Dean and John, flinching on young Sam, but there was no blood. "I'm in the past again?" Sam asked - and then his eyes stopped on a point in the room where no one stood, and fear and anger lit upon his face. "You came with me… Why won't you  _stop_?"

To Dean, time seemed to stop as his future younger brother stood there, attention focused on an empty space as he listened to non-existent words.

"Sammy? Son?" John asked cautiously, heart breaking a little as he watched his prayers go unanswered. What had happened to his son? Was this it, the moment he'd been dreading for years? Or had they never escaped the Mystery Spot, watching his brother die over and over again driving his son to insanity?

"Shut up!" Sam barked, hands balling into fists, shoulders tense. There was silence for a few moments, the present Winchesters barely comprehending what was happening. "Dean, no," Sam moaned. "Don't you say that to me. Don't you say that to me."*

Dean broke. He may not understand any of the conversation, but he knew his little brother was hurting and, somehow, future him was responsible. He couldn't just stand by and watch. "Sammy?" he asked cautiously, taking a step closer. "What's goin' on? Talk to me." Sam's head twitched to the side, but otherwise he gave no sign he heard his brother. "Sammy? Come on, look at me."

"Sam?" Young Sam joined in cautiously. "Sam, what's wrong? What happened to you?"

Of all things to get a response, none of them expected it to be this - or for the violence and anger it manifested as. "I told you!" Future Sam roared, eyes blazing and fists clenched as he turned on his younger self, who stumbled backwards partly out of fear and reflex and partly because John and Dean yanked him back by the shoulders. Without knowing what had happened to future Sam, their focus remained on protecting the younger Sam, even from himself. "I tried! I tried, ok? I'm sorry," he whispered, voice trailing off as he slumped, body screaming defeat. "I'm sorry…" Sam's body crumpled to the floor, though he had enough control to slow his own momentum and end in a sitting position. Once there, he blinked, looked around, and shot back to his feet. "What… what happened?"

Dean and young Sam both sighed in relief, thinking that was the end of it, but John watched his future son with narrowed eyes. "We don't know, son. Why don't you tell us? You just showed up from the future, like usual, 'cept this time you were… hallucinating? Is that what it was? What were they saying?"

"Dad," his present sons protested, the elder taking a step forward as though to move between his father and future brother, Sammy's eyes narrowing in on his father. What had he said to his older self before, he wondered. What had his older self told their father that he hadn't told him and Dean, that these hallucinations provoked an interrogation instead of protection?

"No," John shook his head. "I'm sorry, boys, but I need to know what's gonna happen. There has to be a reason Sam keeps coming back, and information… it's the only possibly explanation. Someone, or some _thing_ , wants us to change the future. But that's not gonna happen if Sam doesn't deliver. So what is it, son?"

Sam stared blankly at his father - his real, live, father - and couldn't do it. He could omit certain things, make sure only his dad understood some of the trials they'd gone through, but he couldn't stay silent. "Dean, uh… an angel saved him. But it happened too late, and he broke the first seal to release Lucifer from his cage," he admitted, eyes firmly locked on his father's. He didn't want to watch the young boys deal with their future story. "And there was a choice I made, while he was gone, that will help stop the demons. But Dean disagrees, and the uh, solution, you could say, to stop me from continuing with the plan… resulted in hallucinations. And -"

Future Sam vanished, leaving the present Winchesters blinking in amazement and confusion at the half-answers given to them. But for John, there was something else there - horror and fear, at the near confirmation that his baby boy's path led to monster-hood and hell. He almost wished Sam was still stuck in the time loop. Almost.

* * *

Sam blinked as the walls of the motel room melted away to the walls of the panic room. The time travel had removed the cuffs, but the door remained closed. No amount of force would open it, so he elected to sit instead. Staring at the walls, he thought back to the past. Revealing Winchester history but keeping the gorier and more hurtful details to himself seemed to be his motto for the visits. Don't want Sammy and Dean growing up knowing their painful future; don't want John to follow his own orders early and yet also too late by killing his future son. And yet, he thought bitterly, maybe that was the entire purpose to the time traveling. His father theorized it was changing the future. Maybe whoever caused these visits did want to change the future, just through driving his own family to kill Sam instead of information. A small part of him whispered the remnants of the detox caused these thoughts, but the creaking as the panic room door opened overrode them. He'd think on it later, he decided. When Lilith was dead he'd think on it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I did it again. Direct quotes from "When the Levee Breaks".
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed! Please review, it gives me inspiration to write (which I really need right now, cause I'm currently deep in the Spider-Man fandom with no way out).


	9. Sampala

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter happens during 5x08 "Changing Channels".

Sam shifted the best he could, uncomfortable in the dark and stillness. He had felt, as weird as that sounded, his brother sit down. He had also felt him disappear, and Sam hoped what he thought had happened hadn't.

* * *

"Alright," John sighed. "It's been awhile, Sam obviously isn't coming back immediately. What do you boys say about driving out to pick up lunch quickly?"

"What if he comes back while we're gone, though?" Sammy pointed out. "I'll stay here just in case, you and Dean go."

John frowned, uncomfortable with leaving his son alone for any length of time - especially considering, if future Sam came back, they had no idea what kind of shape he'd be in - but eventually nodded. "Fine. But you keep your phone on you at all times, and don't let your guard down."

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's Sam, Dad."

"And one time he came back possessed by a demon," John shot back, partially glad for it no matter how horrified he'd been at the time, as it gave him an excuse to be wary of these future Sams without revealing any of his larger fears. "Who knows who else could come back with him. Stay on your guard, and call us the moment the light appears. Got it?"

Sammy nodded, upset at the reminder but understanding the reasoning.

"We'll be back soon," Dean promised, giving a small smile to his younger brother before following his father out the door.

* * *

Outside, Dean slid behind the wheel of the impala and paused. "You didn't have to be so hard on him. All this time travel stuff… we might be facing what's gonna happen to him, but every time a new Sam comes back our Sam sees what his future is like."

"Dean," John interjected.

"No, Dad. How do you think you would feel if your future self came back, possessed or dying or hallucinating or any of the other ways Sam's come back?"

"I know." Dean, mouth often and ready to continue - each of the few times he rebelled, he figured he might as well go all in - turned to look at his father, stunned.

"You know?"

John nodded, sighing and avoiding eye contact with his son. "You think I haven't feared every one of these things happening to you and Sam? You're my kids, Dean. Every time you walk out that door, I'm afraid you won't walk back in. Seeing them come true, even to a future Sam… this is my worst nightmare, Dean. The only way to make it worse would be for future you to come back too. And the only way to make it better, for all of us, is to protect Sammy the best we can. Look out for him. Part of that means being harsh sometimes, so he's ready when hell comes for him. You understand?" There was no response, and John - who'd been staring out his window the entire time - turned to look. Dean sat still, looking at him in a way he hadn't seen in a long time. Not like a hero, or a protector, or a leader - John was familiar with all of those, he saw them every day. No, his eldest sat there in the family car looking at him like John was his father, and that… that was something John hadn't seen since he told his son monsters hid in the shadows and his mother had been murdered by one. Throat threatening to close up, he cleared it roughly and grunted, "Drive, Dean. The longer this takes, the more chance there is of missing Sam."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Yeah, you're right." He reached out, put the keys in, and floored the gas.

Neither of them noticed how the red lights on the dash flickered, studiously ignoring each other and any space where their eyes might accidentally meet.

* * *

Sam sat silently in the dark, wheels churning in his head, struggling to understand everything he'd just heard. Reveal himself, or don't? After that huge confession, he doubted his father would appreciate it. No… no, better to stay silent until he went back to the future.

* * *

Sammy sat silently in the lamp light, wheels churning in his head, struggling to understand everything he'd learned over the past - was it only a few hours? Seeing his older self, seeing what he would one day go through… it should have been impossible to analyze it unemotionally, but somehow, each time they found out something new it became a little easier. You just watched yourself die? Well, better than being possessed for the rest of your life. Hallucinations? Better than watching your brother die over and over again.

Heaving a sigh, Sammy flopped back onto the bed, waited a few seconds, then sat up again. Just because it became easier to compartmentalize everything didn't mean he should stop analyzing it. There had been some weird reactions, and things that had no explanation - like how, exactly, he came back from the dead. The fact his father clearly knew something and, like always, refused to tell him and Dean even when it affected them directly.

Sitting silently in the light, Sammy went over everything he knew for the countless time.

* * *

A while later, as Dean and John pulled into the motel's parking lot again, they both noticed how the red lights on the dash suddenly did… something. Had they been on before? But less than a minute later, a huge white light shown through their room's curtains. Future Sam was back, they realized. Anything wrong with the impala could wait until then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of this chapter, but I did originally start with a humorous chapter in mind. I figured you all might be interested in what I had, so here it is with thanks to Shadowpletlove for helping with it. One line is quoted directly from "Changing Channels":
> 
> \----------
> 
> Sam shifted uncomfortably the best he could as he answered Dean, eyes fixed on the darkness before him. "Oh crap. I -"
> 
> \----------
> 
> That confusion was nothing however, compared to how wide their eyes went when, instead of Sam coming back this time, the family 1967 Chevy Impala appeared before them, somehow missing all the furniture in the small motel room with the exception of a single chair.
> 
> \----------
> 
> "- don't think we killed the trickster,"* Sam finished.
> 
> "Sammy?" his older brother's voice questioned, obviously shocked.
> 
> "Yes, Dean, I thought we established that it's me?" he asked impatiently. "Can we move on?"
> 
> "I don't think that's possible," a new yet familiar voice said slowly. "You're in the past again, son."
> 
> A pause, and then - "crap", Sam groaned. "You've gotta be kidding me."
> 
> \----------
> 
> John watched his car - his son - his future son - with narrowed eyes. Last he saw him, Sam had been hallucinating, talking about Lucifer and demons as if they were normal. Now he was the impala, and John honestly didn't know how to deal with the sudden switch from demonic to comical.
> 
> "Sammy?" Dean asked. "You okay? Y'know, besides the whole becoming the 'pala, and what is up with that? How in the world does that happen?"
> 
> "A trickster," future Sam grumbled. "One that you and I have encountered a few times over the years. We always think we've killed him, and then he shows up causing trouble all over again."


	10. Samifer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone supporting this story, especially those who comment. It means a lot to me.
> 
> Notes for this chapter: LANGUAGE WARNING for a one-time use of the f-bomb. Remember that for the past Winchesters, Detoxing Sam was the last time travel visit, not Sampala. This chapter takes place soon after Sam says 'yes' to Lucifer, during 5x22 "Swan Song".
> 
> I do not own Supernatural.

Sam screamed as loud as he could through the gag, clawing at the door over and over again. Nothing else had worked. He'd tried running into it with his shoulder, kicking it in, looking for something to pick the lock… nothing worked.

"Sam. Come on," the disembodied voice sighed. "I can feel you… scratching away in there. Look, I'll take the gag off, okay? You got me all wrong, kiddo. I'm not the bad guy here. Right now… right now I want to know what that pull is. You feel it too, don't you? That pain, worsening every second I resist it."*

Sam screamed, hurtling his shoulder into the door again, his voice echoing in the space with nothing blocking it now. He could feel it; he even recognized it. It was the same feeling he got when he time traveled while possessed by Meg. She had fled his past family, but Lucifer… Lucifer didn't flee. He was the Devil, who burned cold and had been locked away in the deepest depths of Hell for millennia, who had elected to murder his own little brother. Lucifer didn't flee, which meant he would stay with young Dean, his younger self, and his father, and Sam… Sam was terrified for them.

Lucifer gave in to the pull, musing, "I recognize it somehow, but I haven't felt this presence in centuries."

* * *

Sammy looked up, startled, as the white light came again. He had heard the impala pull in to the parking lot a few seconds before, so he wasn't too worried, but what his father had told him before still rang in his head.  _One time he came back possessed by a demon. Who knows who else could come back with him._   _Stay on your guard._  Sammy pulled his knife, sheathed since the youngest Sam had come back, from his boot again. In the end, though, it didn't do him any good.

* * *

John and Dean slammed the doors of the impala in their haste to get to Sammy and whichever Sam had come back this time. Fumbling with the keys to lock it and to unlock the motel door slowed them down, but didn't stop them in their tracks. The sight when they finally entered the room did.

"Oh good," Sam - he looked like Sam, but he couldn't be Sam, he just couldn't - smiled pleasantly as he looked up from Sammy, tied to a chair and gagged and looking at them so desperately. "You're here too."

"Sam…" John said slowly. "What are you doing son?"

"Oh, I'm not Sam," the future man - impostor? - shook his head. Dean blinked. He knew his younger brother was, even now, starting to rebel against 'Sammy', but surely he wouldn't push back against 'Sam' entirely?

"Of course you are," he whispered.

'Sam' laughed. "You don't understand. I'm  _not_ Sam. He's still in here, yes," not-Sam spread his arms, "but I'm not him. He's my, hmm, what did future you call it? Sam's my 'meat-suit'."

Dean choked, horrified that any version of him would ever refer to his brother like that.*

"What are you talking about?" John asked evenly, hand itching closer and closer to the gun at the small of his back.

Not-Sam sighed. "I had hoped to treat you well. I promised Sam I would, you see, and I don't like breaking promises to my vessel. But that," he eyed John, "is unacceptable." He flicked his hand lazily, and the two oldest Winchesters found themselves joining the youngest tied in chairs. Just like that.

John moaned in horror behind his gag, realizing the demons were never after Sam because he would join them or become like them or turn evil, but because he was needed for this demon to possess him. That was the only explanation for why his son would be a 'vessel' who, apparently, meant something to his possessor.

"So," the demon continued, as if they were in the middle of a conversation, "Tell me about yourselves. Oh wait, you can't." Not-Sam smirked. "My name is Lucifer." All three Winchesters' eyes widened. "Yes, that Lucifer. And yours is mini-Sammy, and pre-Hell-Dean, and pre-Hell-Daddy." Lucifer paused, taking in the horrified expressions on their faces. "Oh, he didn't tell you?"

* * *

"Shut up!" Sam screamed into the door, bracing his hands on it, the floor digging into his knees as he'd fallen to them awhile before. "Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!"

* * *

"See, pre-Hell-Dean here was dying," Lucifer grinned. "And pre-Hell-Daddy couldn't deal with the guilt if that happened, so he sold his soul and gained instant death. But then mini-Sammy died - oh, you knew about that bit already, didn't you? Which means pre-Hell-Daddy probably already knows what comes next." Lucifer's grin widened, while Sammy and Dean shot shocked looks at their father. He didn't pay attention to them - the reminder that there was always a way out shocked him out of the hypnotic state Lucifer had lured them into, and he was too busy twisting his hands around to get his knife and cut their bonds.

"Pre-Hell-Dean couldn't handle little brother dying, so he took a page from Daddy's book and sold his soul. He got a year and then - poof! Hellhound bait." Sammy shook in his chair, tears trailing silently down his cheeks. "And then In-Hell-Dean broke and tortured souls, breaking the first seal to break  _me_  out. Cue angel rescue. Meanwhile, Sammy here had not been dealing well with all this death, so he started drinking demon blood to avenge his brother." Everything about the last future Sam clicked into place in John's head.

* * *

Sam moaned, bracing his head in his hands.

* * *

"And then," Lucifer continued. "Sammy got his revenge, except that action broke the last seal keeping me in my Cage. Which leads us to now."

* * *

"No," Sam groaned, realizing he was skipping over everything in-between, the plan he'd had, what he would make them believe.

* * *

"Angels can't take vessels unless they say yes, and me, well, I was an angel before I became the Devil." Lucifer smirked, seeing the horrible conclusion they all leapt to - that Sam had said yes to having Lucifer himself possess him.

John snarled around his gag, angry at the fact his future son had done that, angry at Lucifer for possessing his son in the first place and dumping all this information on his two young sons, angry at himself for taking so long to break free. And then, as the knife cut through the last strands of rope, Sam - still possessed by Lucifer - disappeared.

* * *

"What have you done," Sam whispered, unsure if he was talking to himself or Lucifer and not really caring which. "What have you done. What have you done."

* * *

John ripped the gag from his mouth, cut through the rope around his feet, freed his sons. He could see the anger and horror blazing in their eyes, knew they mirrored his own, braced himself for a bombardment of questions - and then the white light came again, and all he could do was shove them down and behind himself. John Winchester stood over his sons, gun in hand and pointed at where Lucifer would appear again, and prepared to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Line partially taken from "Swan Song".
> 
> *Dean doesn't realize 'meat-suit' refers to any possessed person, he thought Lucifer meant Dean himself referred to only Sam as a meat-suit, if that wasn't clear.
> 
> So a problem I've had recently writing these chapters is that the secrets and events keep getting bigger and bigger - which means more talking / explaining / exposition. I'm honestly at a loss as to how to fix that and fit in more action. If any of you have an idea, please share it in a comment. At the same time, if you're happy with how these chapters are going and don't want the way everything's unfolding to change, please tell me that as well. Thanks!


	11. Soulless Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone supporting this story, and a special thanks to those commenting!
> 
> Language warning for this chapter for a one-time use of the s-word. The chapter itself takes place during 6x11, "Appointment in Samarra".
> 
> I do not own Supernatural.

One second Sam stared at Bobby, steel in his gaze, the next he stared down the barrel of a gun. Slowly, his gaze moved up to find - John Winchester? Sam blinked, hardly believing his luck. He hadn't known if Lucifer's stint in his body had put a stop to the whole time travel thing, so he'd been prepared to settle for the next best person, but here he was. Fantastic. Widening his eyes, Sam pleaded, "Dad, it's me! It's Sam!"

* * *

This new Sam looked… different somehow, Dean thought. Possessed by Lucifer, he had stood at his entire height, shoulders straightened, not that slouching shit the other Sams had done in an attempt to look smaller and less threatening. This Sam didn't hunch down either, and his eyes screamed a confidence Dean had rarely seen in his little brother - and never in the time traveling ones, who always seemed to appear at either an emotional or physical negative moment in the future. This Sam also looked… buffer was the only word that fit. Like he'd been working out a lot and eating more than those salads he was so fond of. This Sam was different than the Sam Dean knew, but Lucifer had never even bothered pretending to be Sam. "Sammy?" he asked cautiously, standing slowly from the crouch his dad had forced him into.

"Careful, Dean," John warned, eyes and gun still locked on his future son - possibly his future son. Two of the nine Sams to come back so far hadn't been Sam. Twenty-two percent chance of being possessed wasn't exactly good odds.

"Dad?" Sammy whispered, and John felt his son's small hand - so different from the big and scarred ones he would one day have - grip his pant leg. Some part of him was grateful that at least one of his sons continued to obey him and stay down and covered, another screamed in anger at how his usually rebellious son acted after the last visit, and the third part understood where this childish attitude came from - if he'd learned his brother went to Hell for him, his father died, and he allowed himself to be possessed by Lucifer himself in a matter of minutes, he would want to be grounded by touch, too.

"It's ok, Sammy," John whispered, aching to turn and gather his children in his arms, but he couldn't - not until he was sure the danger was gone. "Sam," he called out, addressing the future figure standing still in front of them. "Christo." There was no flash of black eyes. "Dean, take the gun." His eldest did he as he ordered, flinching as he held a gun on his brother - and then Sammy transferred his hold to Dean's pant leg, realizing that his father needed to move, and Dean's back straightened at the reminder of his younger, vulnerable brother behind him. John moved to the bedside table and the Bible that all motels kept in its drawers. It hurt demons, and he had to hope it would hurt the devil too, if it still possessed his son.

* * *

Sam watched his father come closer and closer, Bible in hand, and when he stood before him Sam placed his hand over the cross in the center of the cover. Nothing happened, and his father turned to Dean and nodded. Sighing in relief - at what, Sam wasn't entirely sure - his past brother clicked the safety on and placed the gun on the bed. He crouched down, presumably to talk to Sammy, and Sam - Sam took what he saw as his best chance and  _moved_.

* * *

John had begun to turn back to his future son when he caught the glint of something in the corner of his eye. Never more thankful for his reflexes, his arm blocked the knife stroke as he snarled "Lucifer" and leapt back, making sure to keep himself between Not-Sam and his children.

Lucifer followed him, knife in hand, and said, "Oh, I'm not Lucifer. No, he's been gone for some time now. I'm your Sam, whether you like it or not." This brought John to a stumbling halt, while Dean cursed and pulled Sammy to his feet.

"Don't hurt them," the eldest Winchester warned, not daring to even glance back and make sure his children were safe.

"Don't worry about them, I just need to kill you," Sam assured.

"Why are you doing this?" Sammy snarled, the sight before him flooding him with adrenalin and anger - at the future Sam, at Lucifer, at himself. He glanced at the gun Dean had abandoned on the bed, almost within reach, and the other Sam tutted.

"I wouldn't, unless you want me to kill your brother too. I didn't plan on it, but as long as I leave you alive, well… everything should turn out fine."

"Why do you want to kill Dad?" Dean snarled, eerily like his brother.

Future Sam shrugged, beginning to get impatient with all the talking but figuring there was no harm in doing it for a little longer. "I need to commit patricide to keep my soul from ever being reunited with me. It's the only way to stop the chance permanently."

"You're soulless?" John asked, obviously shocked.

"That's what happens when an angel only manages to pull your body from the Cage after you wrestle Lucifer back in," Sam nodded. "But you're dead in the future, so I was gonna kill Bobby and hope that worked, but then I appeared here and, well… better the real thing and guaranteed success, right?"

John blinked, unsure what hurt worse - the fact both his sons would one day go to Hell, that his son was soulless and trying to kill him in a huge escalation of their fights, or that he'd apparently been so absent from his sons lives that there was a chance killing Bobby would count as patricide.

Soulless Sam, fed up once and for all with the talking, lunged for his father, who sidestepped and whirled his future son around so he didn't come close to his younger self and brother. They both readied themselves for another attack - and then Soulless Sam disappeared. John sighed in relief, hoped that Bobby and Future Dean could figure out a way to reunite Sam and his soul, and grunted as he felt small hands circle his waist. Turning around, he swept both his sons up in a hug. Whatever the horrors the future showed them, John was thankful for one thing - they brought his present family closer together.

* * *

Sam looked around, startled, as John was replaced by Bobby. Plan A would have to do.


	12. Hallucifer&Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who supports this story! I hope you enjoy the new chapter. :D
> 
> This Sam comes from 7x17, "The Born-Again Identity".
> 
> I do not own Supernatural.

Sam lay in bed, staring up at the white ceiling, as he did his best to ignore Lucifer setting off miniature fireworks in the corner. Unfortunately, this took a lot of effort, as the Devil didn't bother dropping the flames into a trashcan. Instead, he flicked them around the room, setting fire to various things before he deigned to put them out. So far, the curtains, the flowers, and the bedside table had been sacrificed. Sam was certain his bedsheets would be next, but he continued studying the ceiling. He'd found a number of cracks, some water damage, a few ants, and strangely a piece of gum. Then, they were falling.

* * *

"Dad," Dean whispered, and when the eldest Winchester pulled away he found both his sons' eyes fixed behind him. Pulling out of their grasp, John turned around to find a familiar white light fading as a man fell to the floor. For once, he thought, it wasn't future Sam. A distinct lack of muscle and general care for his own body spoke to that - but then the stranger whimpered and curled into himself when he hit the ground, and John knew that sound.

"Sam?" Dean asked, stepping forward cautiously. "That you? The real you?"

Sam sat up slowly, turning to look at them for a second, glancing in a corner where nothing stood, and then back to them. "Are you real?" he whispered. All three of the present Winchesters frowned in concern, especially when they noticed how he dug the thumb of one hand into the palm of the other. "Are you real?" Sam repeated, more urgently, once again looking to the corner and back even as he stood, more hunched over than they'd ever seen him. Fear crept into his gaze, and present Sammy leapt forward.

"Yes!" the youngest Winchester blurted. "Yes, we're real, and we want to help." Ignoring his father's reaching hand behind them, the gaze of either a proud or worried brother, Sammy walked slowly but steadily towards his future self. He may not be able to change what had already happened to this Sam, but he could change his own future - and for that, he needed to know what happened, which just gave helping Sam even greater purpose. "Why wouldn't we be real?"

Future Sam laughed, a hollow sound that Sammy did his best to ignore. "You could be another hallucination. Not 'cause of demon blood," he added, noticing the look in their father's eye. "Because I got my soul back and I remember everything that Lucifer did to me in that Cage. Because he's here right now, and I know he's not actually real, but he is to me and it's… it's hard to convince myself otherwise sometimes."

Dean swallowed back bile, the thought of everything his brother would one day go through making him nauseous. Dead girlfriend, visions, possessed by a demon, dead, epic bad luck two times over, detoxing from demon blood, possessed by the Devil himself, soulless, and now, when he was supposed to be fixed and everything all right, haunted by Lucifer who had apparently tortured him in some special part of Hell. The picture the future Sams painted, when all put together, was a bleak one. This particular Sam impressed that further, with his weight-of-the-world slouch, what appears to be hospital clothes, some bandages, gaunt look, and dark circles under his eyes. "When was the last time you slept or ate?" he heard himself ask.

Future Sam shrugged. "Days," he murmured. He glanced in the corner again, where the present Winchesters imagined he saw Lucifer, and added, "Even Lucifer has lost count."

"And the clothes?" John asked, his gruff voice disguising his worry for his son who appeared to be, despite everything else they've seen him go through, at his lowest.

"In the future, I'm locked in a psych ward while Dean looks for a cure," Sam admitted, curling further into himself as though to avoid looking at them as much as he could - or in a nonexistent shield to whatever Lucifer said and did.

Dean frowned, resisting the urge to pull future Sam into a hug. Despite how much he looked like he needed it, and how much his own big brother instincts screamed at him to do it, he knew in the state Sam was in it could do more harm than good. At the same time, he felt relief at the knowledge he was still around to help his brother, saddened at the reminder of all that happened to make that possible, and upset that he would leave Sam alone in a hospital, even if it was to look for a cure. "Lie down on the bed," he ordered, pointing to it for good measure. Sam frowned in confusion, emphasizing the evidence of his poor health.

"Lie down," John repeated his son's order, understanding his idea. "You might be able to get some sleep with all of us here, and even if you can't, you can relax the best you can knowing that we're here to protect you."

"Do it," young Sam glared pointedly. "If anyone knows what's best for you in this situation, it's yourself and your family. So lie down."

Future Sam fidgeted, shifting from one foot to the other, but in the end he did as they asked. Lying down on the bed, he turned on his side to watch his father watch him, even while he recognized a hand each from his past self and past brother resting on his legs. Closing his eyes, he managed a light doze for the first time in days with the knowledge his family was there, and the distinct absence of Lucifer after their voices and his own pain made him disappear.

* * *

Sam only knew when he returned to the future when the weight from two hands vanished and Lucifer set off another miniature firework. "That was fun, Sammy-boy," he chirped. "And good for you for getting that teeny-tiny bit of rest you managed. Bravo. And yet, I couldn't help but notice they never really answered your question, did they? Oh, they said they were real, but they never gave any reasons as to why you should believe them, did they?"

"They were real," Sam whispered fiercely. "I know they were, and you'll never convince me otherwise."

* * *

Facing an empty bed, the present Winchesters turned to each other. "We have to do  _something_ ," Sammy insisted. "When these visits stop, and they have to at some point, we have to do something. They can't happen for no reason at all."

"We will," John and Dean spoke in unison.

"We'll change the future," his brother added. "With all this knowledge, there's nothing else we can do."


	13. Pre-Season 8 Sam

Sam muttered under his breath to himself as he tossed yet another book with no information onto the floor beside his desk. At this point, he was past caring how it landed. His back ached so much from sitting in the chair all night he doubted he could get up, let alone lean down and fix a book if it landed open and spine up.

"Sam?" a voice murmured, quiet and sleepy, and he startled from opening yet another book and turned towards the doorway.

"Amelia, hey," he acknowledged, his own voice crackling low from lack of use. "I thought you were sleeping. What are you doing up?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" she muttered, padding slowly over to him and slumping over his back, hands dangling down his front as she peered over his shoulder. "'Repeating History: Real Accounts of Time Travel Through the Ages'?" she read off the book cover, somehow slumping further. "Oh, Sam… I thought you had stopped this obsession of yours?"

"Amelia, I…" he hesitated, glancing down. How could he explain this to someone completely ignorant of the supernatural world, let alone his various problems? "I'm sorry," Sam sighed. "I tried, I really did." He really hadn't, but he couldn't exactly say that any more than he could 'at least once a year, for almost a decade now, I travel back in time and meet my fourteen year old self, and I'd really like to know why and if anyone's going to get hurt because of it.' "But I can't stop researching. I just have to." Not to mention the fact that this not-hunting period gave him time to actually research this problem for the first time ever. He may have pushed himself to do so right before killing Lilith, but after that came the problems with Lucifer, the Leviathans, and his hallucinations. His soulless self hadn't exactly cared either. As upsetting as it was, Dean's death just might help him save their past selves and father.

The body against his disappeared, and Sam twisted in his seat to watch Amelia back away. "Fine," she stated, throwing up her arms in defeat. "Fine. I'm going to bed. But, Sam?" She met his eyes evenly. "If you don't join me in the next ten minutes and try to get even five hours of sleep before work tomorrow, you're going to be doing research around work and meeting with a counselor, because this obsessional research of yours is interfering with your health. You need to at least control it if you can't stop it." Without waiting for a response, she turned and went back to bed.

Sam sighed and stared down at the book, pushed back his chair, and groaned as he stood, joints creaking. He took a step to follow Amelia and - the doorway vanished. Blinking against the sudden light - midnight lamp lit room to afternoon all lights on room was a harsh change - he made out a motel room wall. Sighing, he turned to face the three people constantly on his mind those days.

* * *

"Sam," John nodded, studying his future son. "Looking… good's not a word I would use here. Better, though." At that, Sam snorted as he sat down on the bed across from young Dean and Sammy. "What's happened since you left?"

"Nothing," Sam replied, dead eyes staring his father down. "Everything's just peachy. I hit a dog and convinced Dean to adopt 'im. Now hunting's easier than ever. Told you we should've gotten a puppy." He forced a grin. There was no way he was telling them that Dean was dead and gone for good.

"Sam, come on," Dean frowned.

That would just make Sammy cry, and Dean worried about Sammy instead of himself, and John upset.

" _I'm_  a better liar than that," his younger self scoffed. "Which means whatever's going on, it's big and you need us."

They may be able to see past his 'everything's fine' facade, but they'd never force him to reveal his latest nightmare brought to life.

"Son, the more information we have, the better," his father tried.

Maybe he should just talk about Amelia? Distract them with his new girlfriend in the same way they'd been distracting each other from their dead loved ones.

"Sammy, talk to us," Dean demanded, glaring with worried eyes.

"You got food?" he asked. "My new girlfriend and I are pulling an all nighter researching for a hunt and Dean left to get food, but he hadn't gotten back yet." A small lie mixed with the truth couldn't hurt, could it?

John sighed. "Yeah, should probably bring that in anyway. It's been roasting out in the impala ever since…" he hesitated, not wanting to bring up Lucifer when there was something obviously wrong. Besides, while it may have been awhile for future Sam, for Sammy it hadn't even been two hours. "Anyway, we forgot to bring it in. I'll go get it now." He glared at Dean on his way out, hoping he got the message.  _Take care of Sammy_.

Dean nodded subtly, understanding the true meaning behind the command -  _Sam will listen to you more than me, use that to find out more info_. "New girlfriend, huh?" he asked out loud. "And she's a hunter too?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded, wishing it were true. Everything would be so much easier.

"What's she like?" Sammy asked, half-wondering honestly and half-trying-to-open-his-future-self-up-in-anyway.

"Amelia joined this business for the same reason we did," Sam replied, eying his past self and brother. He knew exactly what they were up to; it's what he and Dean had done many times with witnesses.

Outside, a car door slammed with a familiar sound and they all looked out to it. Future Sam stood and walked to the motel room door, opening it for his father. If he didn't, he had a feeling John would take longer than necessary and pretend to have been doing something else in an attempt to eavesdrop and give his sons more time to interrogate without him. "Thanks," he nodded, taking the food to the table. Before he could sit, the motel room melted away.

* * *

"Well that visit was useless," John sighed, glaring at where his son had stood. Something had obviously happened in the future that made Sam change his mind about how much to reveal, even to his father. With no knowledge of what that change was John only had room in his heart for anger, not thankfulness at the part of himself that eased with the momentary relief of horror.

* * *

Sam stared at the doorway once again. Looking at the clock, he noted that not even a minute had passed since he left for the past. As he looked at it, he wondered how time passed for Dean in Heaven. Was Cas with him? What happened to angels when they died, anyway? Was there some kind of -

Sam's jaw dropped, and turning to the desk he yanked open a drawer and withdrew a pen and paper. He couldn't spare the time to talk to a counselor, so he'd have to be in bed soon, but the minute it would take to write down this revelation was more than worth it. Scratching the pen across the paper, he underlined the word twice before dropping the pen and heading to bed. He'd been so focused on some kind of mythological creature that would do this to make them suffer - something that would cast some kind of spell that would do all its work for it - that he hadn't considered the one being he knew for a fact existed and time travelled. That maybe, just maybe, one of them had a plan other than the apocalypse before it even started - or at least a back up plan for the apocalypse if it happened - that would actually help the Winchesters.

'ANGEL'.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know that wasn't what everyone was expecting, and honestly it's not what I expected either. That happens a lot in this story, and you can all thank Sam for that (he seems to have a special talent for hijacking this story). I hope you all enjoyed it anyway!
> 
> Also, we're now starting to dive deeper into what exactly is making Sam time travel. There's a lot of discussion about it between the characters in the next few chapters, and then we dive headfirst back into the emotional and physical trauma.


	14. Future Sam Only (aka that one chapter that breaks the time travel pattern)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who supports this story in any way!
> 
> This chapter takes place during season eight, with the majority in 8x07, "A Little Slice of Kevin".
> 
> I do not own "Supernatural".

What was Sam supposed to say? 'I'm sorry Dean, I was too busy researching my time traveling problem to look into how to resurrect you when I thought you were happy in Heaven, especially when solving that problem could save younger you'? No… no, Sam couldn't say a word. He still didn't know for sure if it was angels or not anyway, and he wouldn't until Cas returned from Purgatory as well.

* * *

Sam pulled Cas aside as soon as he could, grip tight and anxious on his arm. For eight years, nearly a third of his life, he had kept this secret to himself; only the research into time travel proved physically anything was wrong at all. To break that silence, to go against what had become instinct, was almost painful.

"Sam? Is something wrong?" Cas asked, obviously confused.

"No, well yes, er… not exactly," Sam replied, sighing as he thought about how to word it. "Since I attended Stanford, something has been transporting me to the past so that I interact with my father, young Dean, and young self, and then transporting me back after a short amount of time. And I think it's an angel." After blurting all that out, Sam stared at the angel in front of him with eyes wide and pleading in what Dean called "puppy form"; if Cas refused to believe him the youngest Winchester had no idea what his next step would be.

"That is most peculiar," Cas mused. "Have you ever met the one responsible for this?"

"No. And I haven't discussed the idea with my father, either. I only figured it out after the last trip a few months ago. Since Dean got back I haven't had time to continue my research, and I have to hide it from him anyway -"

"Why?" Cas interrupted.

"Why?" Sam repeated.

"Why do you hide this from Dean? It seems like something he would want to be aware of."

"It is," Sam sighed, shaking his head. "But he already has so much on his plate, I don't want him to worry more. He would freak out if he knew, destroy his health even more than he already does. He can't know. Do you understand? Cas, you can't tell him. You can't."

The angel looked at the pleading Winchester and nodded. "I will not tell Dean," he promised. "But why did you tell me?"

"Oh, right," Sam muttered. The focus on making sure Cas believed him and wouldn't bother Dean with the problem had driven all reason of why that was even necessary from his mind. "I don't know when I'll time travel next, and I need to get John researching in his own time. You're at full power, right? You can take me back, and maybe even sense angelic activity back then?"

Cas hesitated. He knew he wasn't back at full power. But taking a single person back a few decades, though draining his grace, should be possible… "I can," he nodded, lips curving slightly upwards when the youngest Winchester beamed in relief. Reaching out, he gripped Sam's shoulder, spread his wings, and launched into flight. Nudging the Winchester's mind, he pulled the exact time and place to be their destination and aimed for it. Except… it wasn't there, Cas thought in confusion. The Winchesters had left this place already, journeying on. He could see the argument Sam's arrival had interrupted the first time, but not Sam's arrival. Pushing away before they could do damage to the time line, Cas landed back where he had begun. Both of them fell heavily to the ground, the human retching from the turbulent flight and the angel exhausted and astounded.

"What was that?" Sam demanded once he regained control of his stomach. "Time travel's never felt like that before."

"You have never time travelled to that place and time before," Cas replied. Sam looked ready to argue, but the angel held up a hand. "I am not disputing your claim as to your visits, just that they are not time travel. You have been forced to travel dimensions. Somebody used your first visit to split off another world instead of changing our own, likely so those changes would become permanent instead of remaining susceptible to expungement. The power necessary…" Cas shook his head in awe and disbelief. "An archangel has the power to travel dimensions, but as far as I know only God Himself has the power to create them."

"Don't they already exist though?" Sam questioned.

"Alternate dimensions happen naturally, of course," Cas agreed. "But this… someone sent you back in time and used that visit to  _create_  an alternate dimension."

"And only God has that power? But he's gone, left the building."

"Which means…" Cas hesitated, not even wanting to think it.

Sam completed the thought for him, and the angel wondered if the youngest Winchester had become accustomed to such things over the years or if it was what must be genetic Winchester stubbornness forcing him forward. "Either we're back to square one, with someone unknown out there as powerful as God, or God hasn't actually left."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! So, which do you think it is? Chuck, or some other entity?


	15. Trials Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place sometime between 8x20 "Pac-Man Fever" and 8x21 "The Great Escapist".

Sam carefully made his way down the hall of the Bunker, focusing on his hand and feet placement while keeping an ear out for his older brother. Ever since he'd failed to successfully pass Dean's "shoot-the-target" test they'd both been a little on edge - Sam trying to prove he wasn't sick to Dean while ignoring what his body said, and Dean firmly in overprotective watchdog mode. With all the worries that came from that and the trials, plus trying to find Kevin and worrying about Cas, Sam hadn't managed to convince himself to tell Dean about the whole "God may or may not have used me to create an alternate dimension, which he frequently transports me to in order to converse with our younger selves and father" thing. He had to eventually, though, and even as he headed into the kitchen for breakfast Sam admitted to himself that sooner was better than later - especially, he realized with a start, when his own death might cause Dean to be taken across dimensions instead. Sighing, the youngest Winchester abandoned his quest for breakfast to go find his brother. He should confess everything immediately, before his mind had a chance to point out every reason doing such a thing was the worst idea he'd ever had. Instead, he found himself stumbling as the wall disappeared from under his hand, bending at the waist to brace himself on his knees, and looking up into the eyes of an angry John Winchester.

* * *

Dean's eyes widened as he took a close look at the latest future Sammy. Pale with red rimmed eyes and particularly shaggy hair, he had obviously not been standing completely under his own power. Now balanced, he blinked up at them, eyes drifting almost lazily over them before concentrating on their father.  _Sick?_  Dean wondered to himself, looking for other symptoms. Something seemed familiar here: not in Sam's look, but his actions, the way he shook and the pain-filled eyes and lack of focus and - Dean breathed in sharply as he raced to his brother's side. It may have been hours, but he would never forget the way Sammy looked dying in his arms from a knife to the back, and this - this was too similar for comfort.

Sam looked away from his future self as their brother helped him onto a bed. He had seen many forms of himself that day, and this one, despite the lack of possession or death, hit him just as hard as the others.

John almost moved away - to do what, he wasn't sure, but he  _was_  sure Dean had everything control and Sam couldn't possibly want him to stay - when his future son said shakily, "Don't go. I have things to tell you."

John caught young Sammy's eye and felt his heart practically burst at the acknowledgement and responsibility (somehow, in the midst of all this time traveling, his fatherhood had come to have new meaning he didn't quite understand yet). "What is it, son?" he asked quietly, moving to stand before his two sitting sons and pulling the youngest in close. He had a feeling Sam would never tell them what caused his silence about the future in his last visit, or what changed his mind back to telling the truth. All he could do was listen to what he did reveal.

"I have new information," Sam began, "about why we keep meeting."

"Go on," Sammy said eagerly, hopping up on the table and swinging his legs.

Sam offered an amused and understanding smile at his younger self and continued, "I'm not time traveling."

"Wait, what?" Dean interrupted, leaning away from his brother for a moment to shoot him a confused look. "So what are you doing here then?"

"I'm not traveling through time, I'm traveling across dimensions," future Sam explained.

Past Sam made a noise of amazed understanding. "The moment you stepped foot in the past on your first trip split off an alternate dimension!" he exclaimed. "And every trip since has been between yours and our dimensions."

"Exactly," Sam grinned. At first he'd been worried he wouldn't make it through the conversation, considering how tired and weak he always felt because of the trials, but discussing this filled him with adrenalin in a way nothing had since he finished the second trial.

"But how? What's causing it?" John questioned, brow furrowing in thought.

"Believe it or not," future Sam laughed shakily. "God's the number one suspect."

"God, with a capital 'G'?" Dean asked skeptically, hand reaching out to press against Sam's forehead. "You sure that fever of yours isn't messing with your brain?"

Rolling his eyes, the supposed-to-be youngest Winchester swatted his brother's hand away. "I'm sure. As hard as it is to believe, angels exist, and one of them is like a brother to me and Dean. He's how I figured out the whole dimensional travel thing in the first place, and according to him only God has the power to create new dimensions. We  _had_  thought God had left the building a long time ago, but apparently not. The main questions left are why He's doing this and do we want him to stop." By the end of the short speech, Sam was almost out of breath and breathing hard and ragged, but he could tell by the faces of his past family that they believed him and were thinking seriously about what he had said - and then their faces faded away, replaced with the Bunker hall.

* * *

Sam appeared in his own dimension back when and where he had started like always, though unfortunately too far from a wall to brace himself. His trial-sickness and the fact he had been sitting while in the past didn't mix well with that, and the resulting crash quickly brought Dean running. "Sammy?" he asked worriedly. "What happened? Are you ok?"

"Dean," Sam sighed, the interruption grabbing his brother's attention. "I have something to tell you. You're not gonna like it, but it's the truth, and when Cas gets back he can confirm it. Ok?"

Dean nodded seriously, and reached out to help his brother up. Instead, Sam pulled back, settling in where he was. "No, Dean, we're doing this here and now. I need… I need to do this now."

Dean frowned, but got comfy on the Bunker floor next to his brother. He had a feeling this might take awhile. At the same time, Sam gathered his thoughts, thankful for the fact his latest trip to the past had given him some practice at at least some of what he had to say.

Looking at the floor, Sam began, "Ok, so uh… for the past eight, almost nine years, I've been time traveling to a day when I was fourteen and seeing our younger selves and dad. I have no control over when it happens, it just does - though it seems to aim for an emotional period. It happened when Jess died, and when I died the first time, and in the Mystery Spot and when I was the impala and any time I've been possessed. And I didn't tell you because I didn't want to worry you, but now Cas and I think we know who might be doing this and…" Sam hesitated. He couldn't tell Dean he thought the trials might end up killing him. "And I think it's time. Plus, a third brain thinking about it, y'know?" Sam looked up to find his brother staring at him blankly. "Dean?" he asked carefully.

The elder Winchester blinked, and his face twisted into a mix of emotions even Sam couldn't begin to interpret. "You kept this from me for almost nine years?" Sam nodded tentatively. "And told Cas before me?" Sam nodded again. Dean breathed in deeply, visibly struggling with his emotions and what he wanted to say. "I- Sam, I can't pretend to be anywhere near ok with this. You should've told me the first time it happened, or at least after one of the times it happened when you were injured or possessed, but you kept this part of your life from me. But I… there's nothing I can do about it now, except help. You said you and Cas think you know what's happening?"

Sam nodded, relaxing and relieved Dean wasn't going to start a fight over this. It caused problems they would have to deal with, but now wasn't the time. Opening his mouth, he started, "I'm not time traveling…"

* * *

Left behind once again, John and Dean exchanged a glance while Sammy found himself lost in thought. What would he do, he wondered, if he was in his alternate future self's position? While his brother and father were obviously stuck on the first question, he circled the second. 'Do we want him to stop' Sam had asked. Sammy didn't know the answer. The amount of pain everyone went through with each visit and every revelation… but then the pain his other self must have gone through, and will go through, to make those revelations in the first place… if going through the visits meant their dimension turned out better, did that make them worth it? Sammy had a feeling they just might. After all, he thought, how can we change the future if we don't know everything?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, it will be two weeks before I post a new chapter. This one is over 1500 words, and I need to get ahead with the chapters a little more.


	16. Sam Possessed by Gadreel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for being so understanding about the two week stretch, and I hope you all enjoy the latest chapter! It takes place during 9x04, "Slumber Party".
> 
> Also, I thought everyone would be interested to know I've written 21 of 25 planned chapters (now reflected in the chapter numbers). That number is unlikely to change, as it is the most set it ever has been, but if it does it likely won't be by more than one or two. After those chapters are all posted, this story will be caught up with season twelve and dependent on how future seasons go.
> 
> Note: Gadreel refers to himself as Gadreel in his head, but everyone else still knows him as Ezekiel, hence the difference.

Gadreel leaned back from Charlie, withdrawing his grace even as he continued to study her and make sure he healed her completely. Usually he would trust his abilities, but the entire fight he'd been distracted by a pull he hadn't felt since before prison. With one problem now taken care of, Gadreel turned to the other. "Dean," he murmured, facing the elder Winchester brother. "There's something wrong."

The blood that had returned to Dean's face as he watched Charlie heal drained again, leaving him a worried white. "With Charlie or Sam?"

"There's a… I can only describe it as a 'pull'," the angel began to explain, "that is trying to take Sam somewhere. It hides as much of its presence from me as possible, enough to prevent me from recognising it - I believe you would describe it as 'on the tip of your tongue'?" Dean nodded impatiently, and Gadreel continued, "It also hides it's intentions, including where it wants to take Sam. If you like, I can allow it and investigate. I believe that would be best, as the pull grows stronger with each moment I resist."

Dean hesitated, frowning. He had a feeling this 'pull' might be the dimensional traveling Sam had told him about, though he had never mentioned one. If Ezekiel gave in, though, Sam could eventually find out sooner than later about the angelic possession. Maybe -

* * *

Gadreel flared his wings as the pull succeeded in uprooting him, but he had no control over the flight. One moment he stood in the Bunker, the next a small motel room in an alternate dimension. Two boys and a man shot to their feet the moment they saw him, all drawing weapons. Gadreel looked into their souls and then blinked, his grace-lit eyes fading back to Sam's hazel. "Sam and Dean Winchester," he stated, looking at the teenagers, before turning to the adult. "Then you must be John Winchester."

"Who are you," the man growled, "And what are you doing in my son?"

"I am Ezekiel, an angel of the Lord," Gadreel replied, pausing only to ensure he gave the correct name. It would not do for even alternate Winchesters to learn his true identity. "Sam was gravely wounded attempting to close the Gates of Hell, and so his brother allowed me in to heal him from the inside. Without me, he would be dead."

The alternate Winchesters hid their shock at this new information well, but Gadreel was an angel. Even after being locked up for millennia, with no one but other angels for company, their emotions could not hide from him. "Does he know you're in there?" John demanded.

Gadreel paused, pondering the question. Should he answer truthfully? Considering no harm done if he did - after all, these Winchesters with almost no knowledge of angels could not hope to eject him - he replied evenly, "No."

Dean's face twisted in anger at this angel that dared to possess his brother, at his other future self who not only allowed such a thing to happen but caused it to. "Get. Out," he hissed.

Gadreel cocked his head to the side. "He is still healing." Utilizing the same line that had changed his dimension's Dean's mind, he added, "If Sam does eject me, he will die."*

"Better to die than to be controlled," John countered, hands fisting at his sides. Anticipating his son's outburst at that, he added, "Dean, you cannot tell me that after all you've seen this Sam go through, he wouldn't rather die than risk doing horrible things while possessed."

"Dad -" Dean started angrily.

"You can't, Dean," Sammy whispered, effectively interrupting his brother even as he sat heavily back on the bed as he realised his father was right. Seeing all these Sams, all these possibilities for his own life, had made them the same. What his father said about that Sam, he said about Sammy. It was a heavy burden to shoulder, but he couldn't hide from the truth now that it had been said. He would rather die than be possessed, than do the same things this other Sam had. "Dad's right, Dean."

"Sammy," his older brother protested weakly. "You - you can't mean that…"

"Why, Dean?" the youngest Winchester challenged. "Because you can't watch me die? That's what started all this, right?" Gadreel suspected that question was directed at himself, but remained quiet. His choice didn't matter; Sammy continued to let out all the emotions that had slowly but surely filled him up over the long day. "You made a deal, you brought me back, you couldn't let me die. That's the way it always seems to go. Well, no more. Maybe in that Sam's life, but not in mine, you hear me? I can't risk it. I can't risk ending up…"

Sammy didn't say it, but Dean knew what he meant. He couldn't end up like this other Sam: hardened and battle-worn, scarred physically and emotionally, with no true peace in sight. At the age of fourteen, he could barely comprehend this possible future for an alternate version of himself, let alone accept it as his own. But still… "I can't promise that, Sammy. I don't know what I'll do any more than you do. But I  _can_  promise you that I'll protect you the best I can, so that I'll never have to try and make that choice - and if I do, I'll do my best to let you go."

Sammy's face crumpled, and then Dean found himself with an armful of little brother. No one but John noticed when Ezekiel disappeared.

* * *

"Sam travels across dimensions," Gadreel stated to his dimension's Dean, not surprised at all to find himself in the exact moment he had left.

Dean's jaw dropped. "You - you went, and came back, so fast I didn't even notice you were gone?" Ezekiel nodded. The eldest Winchester brother shook his head half amazed, half resigned. That was it, then. For the first time ever, he had witnessed Sam's dimensional problem and it wasn't even Sam behind the wheel. He also knew that the next time his brother traveled, unless Ezekiel was once again in control, Sam would find out about the whole angelic possession. Shaking his head, he turned away towards Charlie, ignoring the flash of grace in his brother's eyes as Ezekiel faded into the background. Dean could worry about all this once he was sure Sam and Charlie were safe and healed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Line quoted from 9x01.


	17. Season 9 Finale Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Yes, you're all getting this chapter half a day early! I'm not sure how my Wednesday will go, so I decided to update early instead of risk updating late. My posting schedule is still the same, though, so you'll get chapter 18 next Wednesday as usual.
> 
> Also, to shamelessly advertise my other SPN fics:
> 
> \- "Off the Beaten Road" is my Hardy Boys crossover.
> 
> \- "Hey Satan, Paid My Dues" and "On Our Way to the Promised Land" belong to my Hellhound!Sam series "Highway to Hell".
> 
> \- "Always" is my one-shot in which Amara brings back John, not just Mary.
> 
> Some of my more recent posts also include "Merlin", "The Musketeers", and "Teen Wolf" fanfics.
> 
> If any of those sound interesting to you, please check them out! I'd love to know what you all think. :)
> 
> I do not own Supernatural.
> 
> Warning: I broke my own heart writing this.

Sam turned away from Dean's body holding back tears. He had lost count of how many times he'd held his brother in his arms as he died, but this one… this one hurt more than most.  _I'm proud of us,_ Dean had said, and his voice kept echoing in Sam's ears.*  _I'm proud of us. I'm proud of us. I'm proud of us._  A lot of good that had done, he thought bitterly, then cursed as his alternate family replaced the Bunker walls.

"Sam," John rebuked, then hesitated with - was that worry Sam saw in his father's eyes? "Are you Sam?"

Now he was confused, and the dimension traveller sighed. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Last time you were some angel named Ezekiel," Dean replied, keeping a hold on his younger brother even as he squirmed around in his arms so he could see his alternate self.

Sam snorted, attempting to hide the pain he felt at seeing Dean. The last time he "time travelled" after Dean died, he hadn't had a body to burn. His big brother had just been gone, and it had been… not easy, but easier than now, after he had carried Dean's blood-covered, pride-filled body back to the Bunker they had made their home.  _What happened with you being ok with this? *_ Now, the two images warred with each other - young, relatively ok Dean versus old, dead and gone Dean. Somehow, he reflected bitterly, having a body to burn made all the difference.  _I lied.*_

"Sammy?" Dean asked, and Sam blinked his eyes open - when had he shut them? - to realise that it likely wasn't the first time his brother had called his name.

"What?" He tried to sound nonchalant, nothing-to-worry-about-here, but from the looks on their faces he had the feeling he didn't succeed.

"What happened?" fourteen-year old Sam questioned, the words falling heavy from his tongue, and Sam fought to keep a poker face. He had faced horrible things by the time he was fourteen, but nothing like this other him had in less than a day. The things  _he_  had seen… but he had to know more. They all did, if they wanted this other dimension to never face the apocalypse. If he wanted this other Sammy to never face a day without Dean.

"He died." The two words were blunt and to the point, a nod of the head leaving no question as to who he meant. "For good this time, I think. The third Winchester in less than twice as many years. What luck." This last bit, Sam thought, was more bitter than blunt, but he also thought he deserved a little bitter.

"What?" That was Dean, Sam noted. He seemed to have shocked the other two into silence. "What do you mean, third Winchester in less than six years? That would be all of us, and you said Dad died nine years ago!" Dean's voice went awfully high there, Sam noted. Reaching hysterical? It wouldn't surprise him, after the day they'd all had.

"Well, you know us Winchesters," Sam replied, and huh. Still a little bitter. "Always crawling out of the woodwork. Hey, Dad, Dean and I always wondered - did you ever intend to tell us about Adam?" John blanched, and Sam absently noted his own surprise. He didn't think he'd ever seen his father turn that shade of white before, even as a ghost. "I'll take that as a no?"

"'Adam'?" Young Sam repeated, staring with hard eyes at his father. "Who's 'Adam'?"

"Our younger half-brother," Sam shrugged. "Right now he'd be about, oh, I think seven? Which means he's got a little more than half his life left until he gets eaten by ghouls and trapped in the Cage with Lucifer after being Michael's vessel." Dean was now an ugly shade of red, he noted, while Sam instead went white and John, impossibly, got whiter still. He should stop talking now, or at least tell them all of this gently. With a bedside manner. "Death managed to get me out, but not him." Or, Sam reflected, he could tell them everything he'd kept from them to spare their pain. After all, if they knew everything then Dad would never die, and they would save Adam and Kevin and all the other honorary Winchesters, and maybe Dean would never die at all.  _I lied._ If they knew everything, they would never live the life that he and Dean had. Knowing that this was dimensional travel, not time travel, just gave him the go ahead to tell them everything without fear of a world-ending paradox.

"And the third Winchester is Henry. Our grandfather," he clarified. John sat down on one of the beds with a thump. Dean's arms around Sammy relaxed for a second in shock, then tightened again, clutching his brother close. Sam wished his Dean was here to hold him close.  _I lied._ "He didn't abandon you; he was part of a secret organization called the Men of Letters, and when they were massacred he fled to the future, bringing a Knight of Hell with him. He died saving me and Dean." For the first time since he'd begun his bitter, emotionless speech, Sam's face spasmed out of its poker face. His grandfather's sacrifice had been for nothing. And with that final thought, his alternate family faded back to Bunker walls.

Breathing in deeply, Sam headed towards the dungeon to prepare a summons. He had given up hope, but Dean wouldn't want him to. Besides…  _I lied._  As long as Dean had hope in him, he would try to bring him back. If anyone could do it, it would be Crowley.

* * *

John buried his face in his hands, unwilling to look at his sons. Two of his sons, he corrected himself. He could do that, now that they knew about Adam.

Sammy turned around in his brother's arms, hugging him back. They would always support each other, he knew that. Until… he held back a sob. Until one of them was gone. He had seen, now, what the absence of Dean made of him - how cruel and unfeeling he became. He didn't like it now, and he had a feeling he never would until the time came for him to become that brother-less Sam.

* * *

He sat in a small bar in the countryside, lonely with no company but smiling down at a phone. His best idea, or at least one of them, was going perfectly. An entirely new dimension created, John Winchester felt more fatherly than ever, Sam and Dean at least  _understood_  the danger of codependence even if they still hadn't quite let it go, and enough information passed along to ensure new results. Hopefully that dimension would never have to face the apocalypse, or at least not for a few millennia yet. And as a plus: watching Sam Winchester interact with his younger other dimension family made for great entertainment. He did muse, though, that perhaps the time had come for another break. Sending Sam back as the Impala had worked miracles for the alternate Winchesters. No such thing could happen now, considering that had been a one and only event, but it  _was_  possible that the next time Sam travelled, he arrived minutes later instead of seconds. He chuckled and nodded, though no one was around to witness. Another brilliant plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Lines from 9x23, "Do You Believe in Miracles"


	18. Curing Deanmon Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during 10x03, "Soul Survivor".
> 
> WARNING: Explicit language (repeated use of the f-word).

"You…" Dean's voice cracked, all the more noticeable in the silence. Hugging his little brother close, he started over, "We have another brother? One who you've  _hidden_  from us this entire time? You just… did you even  _think_?" The eldest brother demanded. "We… fuck," Dean cursed, and his father's silence on the matter - both his third son and the explicit language - spoke louder than anything he could've said. "We have another brother, who is only seven years old, out there unable to fucking protect himself. I'm assuming you explained none of this to his mother, or they wouldn't have been eaten by fucking  _ghouls_!" With every word, Dean found himself diving deeper into disbelief at his father's actions. To the Winchesters, family meant everything, and yet everything about this situation said otherwise. "I can't fucking believe you!"

The entire day, John told himself, Dean had disguised every emotion he could, holding it all in with only a few leaks. He let the pressure build, and this was only the volcano erupting. His son didn't truly mean what he said.

"I cannot fucking believe you!"

Still, John winced, Dean made that hard to believe when he kept yelling like this.

* * *

Sam breathed hard, back against the Bunker wall, as he looked down the hall for his brother. He turned back just in time to see a hammer flying at his head - and then his brother's black demon eyes were gone.

* * *

"Dean," Sammy began, voice low as he faced his brother. Halfway through his outburst, Dean had begun waving his arms around to further express himself, releasing his younger brother from the much-needed hug after the revelations of the last visit. Unfortunately, Dean was too far gone to listen now.

"You-!" Dean spluttered, arms now flopping helplessly to rest against his sides.

"Dean," John began, attempting to reach his son. "You have to believe me, I was trying to keep you all safe, I never meant-"

"Safe!" Dean barked, almost choking on a hard laugh. "Safe, what a fucking joke! No one is safe! You could die tomorrow hunting, or you could die crossing the street! You never know, you can just make yourself safer, and ignorance," Dean chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers down Sammy's spine. "Ignorance prevents safety."

"You think I don't know that?!" John cried, standing to pace. "You think I don't - my son from an alternate universe just told me his brother dies because I didn't protect him well enough."

"Dad?" Sammy tried.

" _My_   _wife_  died because  _my father_  never taught me about the supernatural! He may not have abandoned me on purpose, but everything could have been prevented if he told me… If he came back, who knows what our lives might have been?"

"Who knows?" Sammy asked, except that wasn't his fourteen year old son, John realised. Turning, he found himself staring at alternate Sam. The man was staring at them with haunted, angry eyes. His hand, barely peaking out from a sling, clenched into a fist.

"Sam?" His Sammy asked, and John found himself remembering the horrified look his middle son had worn after the last visit. "Are you ok?" The question was cautious, tinted with responsibility in a way that told John it was out of duty, not genuine concern.

"No," Sam admitted, and sighed at the way his other, younger self tensed. "Don't worry, I'm not about to explode like I did last time," he reassured. "I, uh… things have changed, and you deserve to know how, as well as to learn it slowly. I never should have told you about Adam and Henry the way I did."

"We deserve to know," Dean argued, most of the anger faded but still enough there for that. "You just said that."

"Yes, and you do," Sam nodded. "Communication problems are honestly the root of every Winchester argument ever, and we all need to fix that. But there is such a thing as taking it slow, and last time all I really wanted to do was hurt all of you for having what I didn't. This time…" He sighed. "This time, I need to tell you things to stop what's happening to me now from ever happening to you. Ok?"

John and Dean nodded, and so Sam turned to his younger alternate self. Sammy stared at him with hard eyes, the mistrust of himself spawned last time going nowhere fast. Eventually, though, he nodded - to stop himself from turning into this other Sam, he needed to know everything. Also… maybe it was hopeful thinking, but Sammy didn't think this Sam was the same Sam as before.

"Great," alternate Sam grinned, though it faded too quickly to be real. "So, I mentioned before that the Winchesters are one of the families in the Men of Letters. If you…" And for the next five minutes, he told them everything he could about everything: the Bunker and where to get its key, the Knights of Hell and Cain and the Mark, and most importantly, Dean becoming a demon. That, he insisted, was priority number one - not that they needed convincing.

This, Dean thought to himself as his younger yet older brother talked about his demon-self, must be how Sammy felt learning about all his possessions. He glanced at his younger brother, and when Sammy turned his way, met his eyes evenly. A beat, and then Sammy nodded slowly. No matter how much it hurt, Dean knew, Sammy would never let his older brother turn into a demon, and Dean would never let his younger brother be possessed. It meant facing who they both became without the other, a lesson Dean felt many had tried to impress on them - but they had never tried this new angle. To save their brother, they would become the monster hidden deep within themselves. They would sacrifice themselves to save their brother, and that knowledge became the foundation of a newfound determination within them both. To save their brother, they would never let it come to such a thing, and as such they would save themselves. They would save each other. All this passed in a glance, and when they both turned back to alternate Sam he had disappeared again.

Instead, they found only their father, staring at them with such weary eyes. They matched his and Sam's, Dean knew, and so he gathered his brother close and joined their father on the other bed. Once again, he thought, the darkness of the future healed present wounds.


	19. "Sammy close your eyes"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during 10x23, "Brother's Keeper".
> 
> The next few chapters, including this one, are shorter than usual, and for that I apologise. Chapter 22 is longer again, and chapter 23 will answer the main question you all have been asking. :D

Holding back tears, Sam gazed up at his brother. "Forgive me," Dean said, and Sam did. He always would. And yet… kneeling on the floor of the restaurant, he couldn't help but pray for the first time in a long time.

'Please, God,' he thought, bowing his head and closing his eyes. 'If You're out there… if You're the one sending me across dimensions… send me now, one last time. Let me see my family one last time.'

* * *

John looked up as the white light once again filled the corner, clutching his boys close. They hadn't noticed Sam's reappearance, he realised as his sharp intake of breath caused them both to push away. At the same time, alternate Sam - from a different dimension, but still a version of his baby boy - raised his head and opened his eyes, and John could breath again. He didn't know how many more of these visits he could take, not if they kept appearing like this one - on his knees and head bowed, a peaceful look taking over his face: the picture of being prepared for one's own execution.

"Sam?" Dean worried, hurrying over to pull his older younger brother to his feet. "Are you ok? What happened?"

Instead of replying, Sam shook his head and hugged this version of his brother to his chest, nose ducking to breath in  _Dean_. This hug was selfish, and so was the entire visit, but Sam couldn't bring himself to care. There was no point in wondering about the coincidence of the visit timed with his prayer. When he went back to his own dimension, he would be executed by his brother. If he stole a few chick flick moments with his family here, what did it matter?

"Sam?" John pressed, tucking a worried Sammy into his side. "What happened? Can you talk to us, you're scaring yourself and Dean… you're scaring me," he admitted, because one thing these visits had succeeded at doing was impressing in him how much his baby boy needed words.

Sam shook his head, nose rubbing into Dean's shoulder with the motion. "I don't… I just want to stay here," he confessed, because if his father could use his words then so could he. They all deserved that much for this last trip. "Enjoy being with you." Sam raised his head, though he stayed slumped in his younger older brother's arms, to look pleadingly at his father and younger self. "Can we, uh…" he beckoned with his fingers.

Sammy nodded, understanding exactly what his other self needed. "Come on, Dad," he whispered, tugging on fingers thick with calluses. When they reached Sam and Dean, Sammy wrapped his arms around his brother.

John looked at them quietly - these young and old versions of his baby boy, and his strong little soldier - and joined them.

They stayed like that, John rocking them all from side to side like he used to do when they were just babes in his arms, and after a few minutes Sammy tugged them all down to the floor.

They stayed like that, wrapped around each other in one large Winchester bundle, until Dean found his arms empty. Then they sat there, just looking at each other, and ignored the fear in each other's eyes for the countless time.

* * *

Sam felt the arms around himself disappear, followed soon after by a whooshing sound in the air. Holding back tears, Sam opened his eyes to gaze up at his brother, who stared back at him in shock as before them, Death crumbled to dust.


	20. Rabid Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during 11x02, "Form and Void".
> 
> I do not own Supernatural.
> 
> WARNING: character trying to convince others to kill him for the greater good / safety of others in the typical Winchester way.

Sam huffed to himself as he studied himself in the mirror. He had gotten worse, obviously so, and he gave himself maybe an hour max before he succumbed. Then the bathroom disappeared, and he knew his situation just became a whole lot worse.

* * *

Alternate Sam appeared in yet another white light. They all breathed a sigh of relief, and then - then the sight of him stole their breath away. Eyes red from lack of sleep and hair greasy, the most disturbing part of the picture was the black veins streaking upwards.

"Sam?" John asked worriedly, pushing away from the hug. Standing, he approached his alternate son, arm outstretched to do… something.

"Stay back!" Sam snarled, stumbling over his own legs in his haste to move away.

"Sammy?" Dean questioned, also standing. "What is it? What's wrong? We thought…"

The alternate Winchester shook his head. "I didn't die," he sighed. "But I am now. I - I've been infected. Whatever you do, don't touch me, and…" Sam hesitated, looking at his younger self. He had requested this before, but never from them, and yet now he found himself forced to do so. If he didn't, they would be the ones to die. "If at any point I attack you, kill me. Hopefully I'll be able to tell you beforehand, but if not… don't hesitate. Don't get my blood on yourselves and you'll be fine. Do you understand?" His voice, slow at the beginning, had quickened with sharpness at the end. If they refused, all of this - the emotional pain the four of them had suffered, all the info passed on, all of it was for nothing.

"No," Dean stated firmly. He didn't raise his voice; his tone was enough. Dean Winchester would not kill his brother, even one from an alternate dimension. "That's not happening, Sam."

"You might not have to," Sam shrugged, trying for indifference even as he held back a wince at the horror on his alternate self's face. "If I go back to my dimension before I go full Rabid, then you're not in any danger."

"That's not the point," Dean argued, in shock that his brother would ever suggest this as a solution. Not bringing him back from the dead was one thing, killing Sam himself was an entirely different issue.

"If I change completely, I  _will_  kill you," Sam said adamantly. "There's no ifs, ands, or buts in that, Dean! I will kill you, and I will kill Dad, and I will kill Sammy." Dean flinched, just as Sam knew he would. He had been right, all those years ago - Sammy was a chubby twelve year old, but he was also the verbal representation of the baby brother Dean had run out of their flaming house at four years old. Sam could take care of himself, Sam could go off to college and say yes to Lucifer and gut a hellhound and come out, if not ok, then as close to it as possible. Sammy needed his big brother, and Dean gladly took care of him. It was a low blow, bringing all those emotions into it, but he would if that meant Dean wouldn't stop their father from doing what needed to be done. "Dad, you will need to kill me," he stated, turning to look his father right in the eye. "Can you promise me that?"

John, silent since his first exclamation, shook his head. "No," he said softly, wondering what his alternate self had said and done to make his own son believe he could ever do such a thing, and swearing to himself he would never make the same mistakes. "No, Sam I can't. We'll find another way. We're Winchesters; we always do."

"Start with what's happening," Sammy added, speaking up for the first time this visit. If they needed a solution, they would find one, but first they needed somewhere to start. Somewhere to distract him from what another, older version of himself requested of his own family.

"I…" Sam stared at them all blankly, the look emphasised by his reddened eyes - and then he was gone.

John slumped down in a chair, and Dean clutched Sammy back to him - something he'd been doing an awful lot today, he realised, but with good reason - and they waited to see if Sam would appear again  ~~or if this had been his last visit~~ (he ignored the fact they'd been doing an awful lot of that today, too).

* * *

Sam stared at the mirror, set his jaw, and walked away. He was not letting Dean down. He was a Winchester; he would find another way. He would find a cure.


	21. Caged Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter happens during 11x10, "The Devil in the Details".
> 
> I do not own Supernatural.

Sam stared up from the ground, back aching where it rested against cold steel bars. He watched as Lucifer's face disappeared, and breathed a quiet thank you to the responsible party as a familiar motel room replaced the Cage. Now resting against the cozy, though thin, fabric of a cheap bedspread, he relaxed back fully and relished in his back ache subsiding at least a little. "Hey," he quirked a smile up at his alternate family and self. "Uh, how's it going?"

"How's it -" Dean barked a laugh of disbelief as he pulled away from Sammy. "What happened to you?" The gesture encompassed all of Sam, and he grimaced.

"Yeah, things went wrong, long story, and I ended up in yet another Cage with Lucifer. I said no, of course, and -"

"Of course?" John interrupted.

"What?" Sam frowned.

"You said you said 'no, of course', but you've said yes before."

Frown deepening, Sam replied, "Well, yes, but there were extenuating circumstances."

"Like what?" Sammy frowned back, ignoring how his brother gaped between them at the expression reflected between the two selves. He had been able to ignore the fact his older, alternate self allowed himself to be possessed by the Devil himself - even forget it, on occasion - solely because of everything else being revealed. Now, apparently, he didn't even get that choice.

"I could, uh… I could see everything that Lucifer did in my body, hear everything he said," Sam murmured, drawing his legs up and looking down at his knees. "So I know while he said enough to help you realise I said yes, he didn't say a thing about the plan I had doing so - the plan I managed to carry out."

"Your soulless self mentioned something about wrestling Lucifer back into the Cage," Dean remembered.

Sam grimaced, "You met him, too?" John nodded, mirroring his son's expression as he remembered everything he learned in that visit. "Well, I lost my soul in the Cage. See, when I said yes to Lucifer, Dean and I, along with some friends, had managed to piece together a key to the Cage. We could open it; force the Devil back in. But he needed to be caught off guard. So I said yes, Dean found me, and I…"

"You wrestled back control," Dean said softly, amazed at what his alternate brother had done.

Sam nodded. "Dean opened the Cage, and I jumped in. Michael - the archangel - tried to stop me, but I dragged him in, too. A friend of our's, Cas - he's an angel too - managed to rescue my body, but didn't realise my soul stayed behind. That's why I was soulless until Death pulled that out, too."

"Death," John stated skeptically. He could believe angels and archangels, after the Devil that wasn't hard. He could believe his son managed to wrestle back control of his own body from said Devil - he was a Winchester, after all. He could even believe being friends with an angel. But Death, with a capital D?

"Death," Sam confirmed. "He rules over all the reapers. Or at least, he did until Dean killed him."

"Until Dean…" John trailed off, glad he'd stayed in his chair; it saved him the embarrassment of possibly falling to his knees in astonishment. "Is that even possible?"

"Apparently," Sam shrugged. He and Dean had been amazed when it happened, but after everything else in their lives it wasn't that big of a deal.

"How did you end up  _back_  in a cage with Lucifer?" Sammy interrupted.

His alternate self grimaced again, but opened his mouth - and disappeared.

"Great," Dean sighed. It seemed like each visit answered a couple questions and created a dozen more.

John echoed his son's sentiment, settling back in his chair to ponder the new information: especially the satisfaction at having his last doubts about his son banished.

Sammy wandered over to where Sam had sat and slumped down in his place. It was a relief, knowing his possession by Lucifer and even his soulless self had served a purpose. And yet… and yet, each visit showcased some of his own strengths and weaknesses, leaving him wondering if he would ever overcome the latter and if he could ever be as strong as his alternate self. Questions for the future that even an alternate dimension couldn't answer, he mused.

* * *

Sam appeared back in the Cage, facing people who once again had no idea he had ever left - except he did, Sam realised with a start as he watched the expression on Lucifer's face settle into surprise.

"Still travelling, I see," the Devil grinned. Sam had a split second to wonder at why an archangel could detect that minuscule moment he no longer existed in his own universe, and then Lucifer proceeded with the previously interrupted beating.


	22. "Red Meat" Sam

He watched the TV and laughed when the main character took a pie to the face - after all the subterfuge and lies of the episode, he had definitely deserved it. This series, in all honesty, was a relief. He had started this project with specific spots in time in mind to pluck Sam from - pivotal moments, ones that the alternate Winchesters needed to see (ok, some had been purely for amusement, but anyone else would do the same). He had first come up with the idea six years ago, though, and thus had been required to time jump through the first five years. There had been no slow moments. He ran on the same timeline as Sam now, however, and couldn't just skip through the years. He had to wait them out, hidden from everyone (there had been that one time someone had discovered the truth, but hey, no one's perfect and it was all taken care of now!). His days weren't filled with boredom thanks purely to handy spying spells that alerted -

A shrill alarm filled the bar, and a live video of Sam replaced the TV show. He shot up on the couch, instantly alert, just in time to watch a werewolf fire a shot at Sam. He knew Sam likely wouldn't survive a hit like that without immediate medical aid, and he wouldn't get more than a bandage in a place like that judging by the video. He would just have to send him someplace he would. A single thought later, and the bar was empty.

* * *

All the Winchesters looked up as the light once again appeared. This Sam came through on his knees, so reminiscent of when he died in Dean's arms that he thanked whoever controlled these visits it wasn't the same circumstances - and then Sam listed to one side, feet coming out from under him as he slid back to lay flat on the ground, blood saturating his shirt. "Sammy!" Dean cried, racing towards his older younger brother, hand cupping the back of his neck as Sam craned upward to peer at the blood now coating his hand. "Lie still, ok? We got you," Dean pushed him back down again, glanced at his father's hands pressing a balled up shirt to the wound, looked to young Sammy racing towards them with their fully stocked emergency stash of medical supplies, and prayed to whoever listened that he hadn't just lied.

Sammy handed him everything he asked for detachedly, John noted as he pressed a roll of gauze between his son's teeth - his alternate son, but still his son - and dug into his side to retrieve the bullet. He hoped this wouldn't send Sammy back into the state he'd been in after Lucifer's visit. His son had been angry, but the physical and emotional pain this other Sam had gone through was all too evident in the last trips, and now this… It was a lot for anyone to handle, let alone a fourteen year old.

Sammy did everything his father ordered, blocking out everything else, because he knew that was the only way to survive this visit. Ignore the blood… ignore the bullet wound and the bullet itself… ignore the fact that one day, he would know what it felt like to be shot. Focus on the here and now, on the things he could do and the things he knew, because focusing on the possible future at the moment would send him into shock and render him useless. Useless: the one thing he could never be, especially not in crisis situations like this.

Sam clenched his teeth around the gauze, biting back screams of pain. His younger, alternate self had no need to know what that sounded like yet. His younger older brother, clutching his hand tight in his own, didn't need to know what that sounded like yet. His alternate father, performing emergency surgery on his son, didn't need to know what that sounded like yet. So far, they had managed to keep Sammy away from the dirt and grit of the hunting business. That would change soon, but not yet… not yet.

* * *

Dean cried out and ran to his brother, first aid kit in hand. He could spare the time to dig out the bullet, he knew, but after that he would have to hand the reins to Sam. Cursing to himself, he wished the captives were fine so he could just leave them for ten minutes and properly tend to his brother. Instead, he would have to bounce between three patients.

Dean dropped to his knees beside Sammy, opened the kit, turned to the wound, and - "What?" he asked weakly, staring down. It had been expertly bandaged in the Winchester style, but how -?

Sammy grinned up weakly at him. "Handy quick trip," he panted.

"You - did you  _travel_?" Dean hissed quietly, angling his body so the  _already taken care of bullet wound_  was out of sight of the two civilians behind him.

Sam nodded. "Bullet out, staples in, gauze and tape. It'll… it'll do until we get to town. Painful trip, but at least we know I won't bleed out."

"I…" Dean trailed off, still taken aback even as he feigned taking care of his brother. He had witnessed his brother's dimensional travel once before, when Gadreel had informed him after the fact, but this was the first time he truly appreciated that Sammy had time pass no one else in their dimension would ever witness (unless, of course, they apparently possessed his body at the time). "Whoever's doing this doesn't want you to die," Dean smiled shakily, and then turned back to the civilians. They had a long hike back to civilisation, and he could think on all this then.

Sam allowed his grin to fade the moment his brother could no longer see him and grabbed the first aid kit to better pad the bullet wound. He hadn't lied to Dean - not exactly, anyway. The bullet was out, and he had staples and gauze and tape. However, without knowing how long they had until he disappeared, no knowledge of the long walk back to the impala waiting for Sam in his dimension, and Sam in no shape to tell him otherwise, his father had elected for a quick staple job and lots of gauze. It would hold for a little bit, and would definitely tide Sam over longer than if he hadn't switched dimensions momentarily, but eventually the blood would start soaking the gauze again. It wasn't anywhere close to as perfect as he made it seem to Dean.*

* * *

In the wake of Sam once again disappearing, the alternate Winchesters fell back against their beds to wait for the next Sam to appear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I have no medical experience. Everything here is based off hospital TV shows, what actually happened in "Red Meat", and what I need to make this chapter work. Apologies if this is wrong and bothers anybody.


	23. Sam Confronts Chuck (aka that one chapter that breaks the time travel pattern again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place towards the end of season eleven, after the end of 11x20 "Don't Call Me Shurley".
> 
> I do not own Supernatural.

Sam waited until they had a chance alone to breach the subject. Dean had enough to worry about with Amara; there was no need to remind him of his brother's unpredictable dimensional traveling. If he got the answer he expected, then he would share the news. If not… if not, there was no reason it couldn't wait until the entire Darkness business was over and done with.

"Sam," Chuck greeted him pleasantly as the taller man approached.

"Chuck," Sam returned. "I uh, have a question for you."

"Fire away," He replied, still smiling. It was easy, like this, to forget the man was actually God, Sam reflected. And yet at the same time, impossible.

"Are you responsible for all of the dimensional traveling I've been doing?" Sam blurted.

Chuck's eyebrow raised in the first show of surprise Sam had seen from Him since the revelation. "No, I'm not."

"How could - you're not?" Sam asked. He'd expected no other answer, despite some preparations made to the contrary. No one else, Cas had said, had the power. Except now, Chuck said it wasn't Him.

"I know, I know, you thought it could only be me," Chuck sighed. "Well, fortunately for you, I  _do_  know who's responsible. I can pass him a message if you like."

"Pass a - you won't tell me?" Sam demanded.

Chuck shrugged. "I have no reason to. I agree with it and have no reason to stop it, and telling you -"

"I want him to continue," Sam interrupted. "I do. I want the other Winchesters to have a better life than we have, and I think this is the way. But I would like to know who's sending my body across dimensions." Unspoken, but clearly heard, was the fact that  _Dean_  wanted to know so if something went wrong, he knew who to blame.

"And he doesn't want you to know. I'm sorry, Sam, but he has reasons for keeping his anonymity that I completely understand, regardless of the fact that believe it or not, I am more loyal to him than to you."

Sam's mouth, he realised in some distant part of his mind, had dropped open. Chuck had come out of hiding to, in part, save him and Dean. He hadn't done so even for the angels when they Fell. Surely He only held His archangels in such high regard, and yet they were all dead - and not powerful enough to create a new dimension either way. Amara had been locked away when it all started, and had no motive besides. "Who?" he mouthed soundlessly as he watched Chuck walk away and vanish.

* * *

Chuck appeared in a bar in the countryside and looked around, chuckling slightly. It barely differed from the bar He had chosen to meet with Metatron. The Apple, as His children said, does not fall far from the tree of the Father. For this particular son, well… creating similar bars was only the tip of the iceberg.

"Hi, Dad," Gabriel smirked as he spun around on a stool. "Where've you been?"

"Son," Chuck nodded. "I have a message for you." The archangel shrugged in disinterest. "From Sam Winchester." Gabriel froze, then shrugged again in a poor attempt at hiding his sudden interest. "He wants to keep traveling."

"Traveling?" Gabriel asked, chuckling. "He and Dean travel -"

"I know, son. About everything. Do you really think I would have missed a new dimension popping into existence, let alone one created by my own son with the help of several of his trickster friends? Or all of those time jumps? You think I would have taken my eye off of you in the first place, after just resurrecting you?"

By the end of the short speech, Gabriel's mouth hung open before he closed it and checked, "You didn't tell him?"

Chuck shook his head, "I knew you didn't want that."

Gabriel nodded slowly. "Good," he grunted. "He might change his mind if he knows it's me."

Chuck hmmed in response before vanishing. Gabriel stared at where his Father had been, then turned back to the chocolate milkshake on the counter and took a loud, slurping sip. As long as nothing changed, the fact God knew about what he'd been up to wasn't worth fretting over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to AmazinglyHorribleEggppants for planting the idea of Gabriel being responsible. It was going to be Chuck, but after you commented about Gabe I just couldn't shake it. :D


	24. British Men of Letters Tortured Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented! I may not respond personally to every one, but know that I love them all.
> 
> One comment to the last chapter also brought up number ONE of things to discuss: whether or not Sabriel will appear in this fic. The answer is I don't know. This fic might be the most planned out of any I've ever written, but I'm still letting it take me where it wants most of the time. That might be to Sabriel, and it might not.
> 
> Number TWO of things to discuss you might have noticed in the description of this story already, but there is more to it than that. Chapters 1-25 are now Part I: 'For So Many Years Have Gone'. Chapters 26-? will be Part II: 'A World So Newly Born' (titles both taken from Queen's song "'39", same as the story title). I have decided to lengthen this fic (don't be surprised if we hit forty or fifty thousand words). The reason for that is instead of waiting for an unknown amount of time for a good moment in season 13 to send Sam back in time, Gabriel is going to mix things up after the next chapter.
> 
> This brings us to number THREE on the list. In order to build up chapters for Part II so that we can get back to the regular update schedule, this fic will be going on hiatus after I post chapter 25, so starting next week Wednesday. I don't know how long it will be for; hopefully not longer than a month or two but there's no telling. I didn't start posting Part I until I had eight chapters relatively finished, and I will likely aim for that number again.
> 
> This chapter takes place during 12x02, "Mamma Mia".
> 
> I do not own Supernatural.
> 
> WARNING: Mention of self harm (Sam's hallucination v. reality trick).

"Get away from my boys."

The voice came from the door, and when Sam turned to look she appeared real. No flames framed her, and he'd never seen that look in her eyes in any photos. She had to be real… "Mom," he gasped, and three gasps answered him even as he fell back from his chair disappearing. Blinking in surprise, Sam looked around wildly and scrambled to his feet. Three Winchesters, though not the ones he'd just left, stumbled to their own.

" _Mom?_ " Dean - alternate Dean, Sam noted to himself - demanded. "What do you mean Mom?"

"She - she's alive?" Sam replied, shaking his head and shakily taking a seat on a bed. "Or a hallucination? She, uh… she's one or the other. But she  _looked_  real. She  _looked_ real, but how can she…? She can't be - and Dean is supposed to be - I don't  _understand_ ," he muttered, upset with everyone - himself, for still being hazy from the drugs and torture, the British Men of Letters, for doing the drugging and torturing, and whoever kept sending him across dimensions, for sending him in the middle of such a confusing and vulnerable time. He was safe with them, Sam reminded himself even as he slid off the bed to the ground. Pulling his legs to chest, he looked warily at the alternate Winchesters as they approached. He was safe with them, Sam knew that, and yet after everything… could this be another hallucination, brought on by another spell, by more drugs? Could this be another trick? Maybe this was all a trick… maybe this was all Toni, every bit of it, this was all a hallucination. Maybe -

"This is  _real_ , Sam," alternate John said desperately.

"What?" Sam blinked and looked up from his knees, realising he must have said that last bit out loud. They were all crouched on the floor, close enough to reach out and touch him, and yet not. For some reason, this relaxed him. If they had been just another hallucination, he suspected they would have crowded him. "I - I know. I just…" he paused, looked down to his knees again. He just didn't trust his own mind after the last few days he'd had.

"Sammy?" Dean questioned, reaching out slightly. Sam let him, leaning into the touch when Dean grasped his shoulder. One last test, just one… just for safety of mind. Grasping his own hand, he dug the nail of one finger into the palm of the other. Pain, he thought. The pain is real, they're all real. No more doubts.

"You're all real," he said aloud.

"Yes, we are," John - Dad - soothed. "Can you let go of your hand, Sammy?"

He leant farther into Dean's hand at the same time he released his own. Glancing down, he saw a crescent shape, though thankfully no blood. "Yeah… I'm uh, just… I'm coming off hallucination-inducing drugs, but other than that…"

"You mentioned Mom," his younger self whispered.

Sam shivered at the reminder, but let his silence - hopefully - speak for itself. He wouldn't give them false hope, not about her and not about Dean. They were dead, like he thought, or they weren't, which would be a welcome surprise but not one to go into yet.

Dean and John exchanged a glance, and then the former slung an arm over the shoulder of his too tall brother and settled in beside him, while across from them their father did the same with the younger Sammy. They would let Sam have his silence and, as was becoming the norm, give both Sams comfort until the alternate one disappeared again.

* * *

Sam appeared in his own dimension, and at the 'yes, she's real' nod he received from his Dean, breathed a little easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for yet another short chapter, though the next one will hopefully make up for it (1600 words!).


	25. Solitary Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it... I want to thank all of you for accompanying me on this journey. It's largely thanks to your support that it has evolved to the point where it needs to be separated into two parts, and that this fic is being put on hiatus while the second one is written. Thank you.
> 
> This chapter happens during 12x09, "First Blood".
> 
> I do not own Supernatural.

The next time the light came, it appeared over the bed - and for good reason, apparently, as this Sam travelled lying down. He dropped softly onto the mattress before whirling upright. Eyes wide, Dean stared up at his older younger brother, taking in all the changes. The last Sam had been in bad shape, what with all the blood and signs of torture, not to mention the hallucinogenic apparently running through his system. That was all gone now, and for that Dean was thankful - but in other ways, Sam looked worse. The man who had never appeared with a beard now bore scruff, and he looked older than ever before. Sam looked worn, and against the grey jumpsuit that stood out even worse.

"Sam?" John frowned, holding his hands up in surrender. "You ok, son?"

Nodding slowly, his older younger brother lowered himself down to their level. "Yeah, sorry…Dean and I have been in a prison that officially doesn't exist for awhile now, so I'm kind of jumpy."

"A  _what_?" Dean asked.

"What did you  _do_?" Sammy cried at the same time.

Sam huffed, then grumbled, "Apparently, exorcising the president of the United States looks like a lot like an assassination attempt when you purposefully draw him away from secret service and he ends up unconscious after the fact."

"You  _what?_ " John said. "The  _president_?"

Sam grinned, but Dean couldn't help but notice it didn't reach his eyes. "Besides that, are you ok?" he asked.

Sammy added, "And you never answered my question about Mom."

Now, other Sam's eyes lightened into something - fond? Loving? And yet at the same time, longing. "Yeah, uh… Dean managed to provide sibling counselling for God and His sister, and as a reward Amara brought Mom back to life."

All three alternate Winchesters looked bewildered, and they cried out questions throughout the sentence.

Dean, making a face, said, "Sibling counselling?"

John asked, "God's  _sister_?"

Sammy, however, was the one who waited till the end to cry, "Mom's alive?!"

"And healthy as ever," Sam smiled wanly. This time, however, it was John who noticed. While his sons shot question after question at Sam, so fast that the words were unintelligible, John suspected he knew why.

"Boys," he said evenly, making eye contact with the two youngest in the room. "How 'bout you two head to that diner down the road and pick up dinner? Burgers, fries, and milkshakes for all of us."

The suggestion quickly sucked all the air out of the room, though it didn't take long for them to get their breath back. "What?!" Dean and Sammy shouted together.

"But Mom -!"

"You can't -!"

"Boys." The word came out short, John barely holding back the growl that was meant for the monsters they hunted, not his sons. "That's an order. Go pick up dinner."

Sammy immediately began protesting, prattling on about how it was their mom and they had a right to know. Dean, about to join him, caught sight of older Sam in the corner of his eye. He hadn't said a word during the entire debate, or even since announcing their mom was ok. At some point, he had backed up quietly and sunk down on the bed, a feat considering how squeaky the springs were. Everything about him, from his scruff to the way his shoulders slumped and his head bent to meet them, like it weighed too much to bear, screamed that something was wrong. "C'mon, Sammy," Dean said suddenly, hooking an arm around his younger brother and hauling him backwards, thankful Sammy hadn't grown into Samsquatch yet. He wouldn't have the muscle and height to swing alternate Sam around for a while yet.

"But Dean-!"

"Sammy," Dean mock-glared - or at least, he thought he had, but the way his brother subsided, no longer resisting, told him he hadn't quite managed to hold back the fierce protectiveness bubbling up inside him. Releasing him, he spun Sammy around and threw an arm over his shoulder now, giving it a light squeeze to tell him he hadn't meant it. His younger brother smiled up at him, and after the day they'd had Dean would take it.

* * *

Sammy waited until the impala's engine started to talk. "Why'd you leave?"

"No chick flick moments," Dean grunted, pulling out of the parking space smoothly.

"This doesn't count," Sammy glared. "Why'd you give in? Don't you wanna know about Mom?"

The impala's brakes squealed harshly from how hard Dean had stomped on them, and both boys winced. "Of course I do," Dean muttered, easing off the brakes and pressing down on the gas again while giving the impala a few pats to her dash in apology. "Sorry, Baby… I just…" Dean shook his head, not wanting to put his feelings and thoughts into words.

"Just what?" Sammy pressed, and the elder sighed. He had watched his father learn that older Sam needed words today, and use them himself because of that. He could use words for younger Sammy who needed them just as much.

"He's still you, Sammy," Dean said. He felt his younger brother staring at him, but focused on the road instead. Just 'cause he used words didn't mean he had to make eye contact while doing so. "He's still you, and I'm still supposed to protect him. And the way he looks right now… he looks…"

"Tired," Sammy murmured. "I noticed."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Tired. And I have a feeling a good talk with Dad, who knew Mom best, will help him a lot. If that's all I can give him, that's what I'll do - even if it means we wait till the next visit to find out about Mom ourselves."

Sammy was silent, and Dean risked a glance over to find him staring contemplatively out the window. A moment, and then - "I understand," Sammy said, and Dean turned away as his brother turned back to him.

* * *

John watched his sons exit before turning to his alternate son. "Sam," he said evenly.

Sam met his eyes. "Dad. What's the private father-son moment about this time?"

Sighing John sat beside him, watching as Sam's eyes followed him - curious, yet wary. He didn't know what to expect, John realised, heart stuttering for a moment. Loving father or angry sergeant. Thankful once again for the opportunity to heal their relationship, he began, "Mary was always tough." Sam blinked in surprise, but didn't interrupt. "She grew up as an only child to a hard man who alternated between doting and ordering. She learned how to fight because of it, how to get her way with words when she could, and fists when she couldn't. I think she would have made a great hunter, and -"

"She was," Sam said softly, so softly John almost missed it. As it was, he must have misheard.

"What?"

"Mom was a hunter, Dad." Sam looked at him, shoulders straightening. "The Campbells have a large family tree of hunters. She retired to marry you, but now that she's in the future and you're gone and Dean and I are adults, she's gone back to hunting because she feels like she can't do anything else. And Dean and I try to help, but she won't let us, and logically I know that it's probably because she still thinks she should be taking care of us, and we won't let her cause we can take care of ourselves, so she hunts, and the cycle repeats. But we feel like she's rejecting us cause she doesn't know us, and now we can't even see each other cause we're in solitary, and it's just…"

John hadn't said a word during Sam's outburst, simply listening. He had been right about why his alternate son appeared so exhausted, to a point: dealing with and processing the knowledge that someone traveling across time and dimensions to you imparted was one thing, still big, but different than time travelling thirty years into the future to stay. Helping someone through that would also be hard, especially when they were the mother you barely remembered. Adding in hunting and the Winchester life just made things more complicated. At the moment, he didn't want to touch the fact that Mary had been a hunter. Maybe it was a little selfish, but right now his son needed him more than the memory of his wife, so when Sam broke down at the end of his spiel and hunched over into himself, John wrapped an arm around him and tugged him close.

* * *

By the time Dean and Sammy returned with dinner, Sam had finished crying, disappeared, and failed to reappear however many months older. John, still sitting on the bed watching for him, waited a moment longer and then turned to them. "He's not back yet," he told them.

Sammy nodded as he set the food down, no trace of his anger from before in sight. "Think he'll show up soon?"

John shrugged, standing stiffly as he made his way to a seat by the table.

"Think we'll get a break now?" Dean wondered. "It is  _way_  past dinner time, and those burgers are calling my name."

* * *

In another dimension, Gabriel smirked to himself as he swaggered down Broadway. They could all use a break, he figured. He was getting bored cooped up, and the amount of stress the alternate Winchesters were going through would give anyone ulcers. It would make Sam happy, as well, to appear in an alternate dimension where things had already changed. And ok, maybe it would be fun to see the different situations he could make Sam pop in. He could picture them already, and laughing Gabriel pushed through the doors of the theatre.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Not stating what musical Gabe is at Broadway for, but personally I'm imagining Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
> 
> As always, please comment! Also, enjoy a tentative summary for part two, 'A World So Newly Born':
> 
> When the alternate Winchesters wake up the next morning with no sign of Sam, they get on the road to do what they do best as they wait for him to return, while also changing their world using the information Sam gave them throughout his visits. As the years pass, though, one question lingers over them: is the other Sam dead, or will he randomly show up one day?


	26. Part II: Welcome to the Jungle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Guess who has five whole chapters drafted and a solid plan for the future? :D Said plan is this: based on my outline, there will be about ten or eleven chapters for this section before I'm forced into hiatus. I say 'forced' because there's only so much I can write before I catch up with the TV show in the alternate universe as well. This is not going to be a play by play, but time skips with zoomed in views of important moments. This hiatus, however, will be broken periodically (read: a few times a year) when new SPN episodes inspire visits from alternate Sam. Until we reach that point, though, we're back to the once-a-week updates every Wednesday!
> 
> Disclaimer now: all titles for part two are taken from titles for rock songs, with the exception of visit chapters, which will be structured same as in part one.
> 
> I do not own Supernatural, and I hope you enjoy the beginning of Part II: "A World So Newly Born".

John woke up slowly, something that hadn't happened since Mary died. The events of the previous day, he guessed, had exhausted him to such an extent that the nightmares couldn't come. Not, he realised with a groan, that that equalled a good night sleep. A crick in his neck and creaking joints spoke to the awkward, sitting up in bed position he had fallen asleep in.

Movement beside him had John looking down to smile at his boys. Waiting for the next Sam to appear, after dinner they had all climbed into bed together. At some point during the night Dean had slipped down to lay sprawled out on his back, one arm reaching over to clutch at John's jacket. Sammy had also slipped down, but he had curled into John's chest so much he was practically in his father's lap. Though, John realised as he stretched his arms, this was partially his fault as he had an arm around both his sons. There had been lots of hugs in the last day, as well as breakdowns and "chick flick moments", as Dean would put it, and John had a feeling they were making up for lost time.

Shifting, the eldest Winchester extracted himself from the pile. Dean groaned behind him, and Sammy mumbled sleepily, "Don't go." Heart breaking, John reached down to squeeze his middle child's shoulder. "I'm right here," he murmured. Sammy yawned and reached for him in turn, fumbling. Knowing he had to get up, John instead guided Sammy's hand to his brother's shirt. His fingers, so small compared to how big they would soon get, flexed in the material before latching on. John turned to go, satisfied his son was happy, and made eye contact with his eldest.

"Dean," John nodded.

"Dad," he said in return, sleep making his voice rough. He slid closer to Sammy, taking John's place as his pillow, though he never looked away from his father. "Where's Sam?"

John shook his head, "I don't know. He wasn't here when I woke up, and I don't think he came while we slept."

"Maybe he did and just didn't wake us?"

"No… no, the amount of visits we had yesterday, and how much noise he made, we would have woken up."

"You don't think -" Dean looked stricken now, and John hurried to cut him off.

"No, I don't think he's dead. The amount of times he appeared here seemingly close to death, I think he'll come here again for that. I think this is something different. A chance, maybe, to fix things he's already told us about."

Dean still looked uncertain, but he nodded. His father's words had soothed him to a point, but John knew they would all doubt it until they saw Sam again. And then Sammy spoke seriously, albeit still sleepily burrowing into his older brother. "Or maybe he did come and die, but didn't make enough noise to wake us up. If he bled out, or was already unconscious, we could've easily slept through his visit…"

There was silence for a moment, and then Dean shot out of bed, dumping Sam onto it - not that that lasted long, as Sam quickly processed what he'd said and followed his brother to the phone. John let them at it, instead spinning around to study the floor. Whoever or whatever caused the other Sam to visit didn't bother transferring back blood and bodily fluids, so if he could identify any new spots they could at least know if Sam had appeared, though not if he was still alive.

"Bobby, hey, it's Dean," Dean blurted in the background, distantly registering in his father's head as he processed the room's condition. "We need all the info you have on dimensional travel - yeah, that's right, you heard right, dimensional travel - I'm being serious, Bobby! Dimensional travel. Yes. ASAP."

There was the sound of a brief struggle, as well as a strangled yell of shock from Dean that John didn't bother investigating, and then - "Hi Bobby, it's Sam. Quick question, just want to cover all our bases here - a tall man with long brown hair hasn't appeared out of thin air anywhere recently that you've heard of, has he?"

"Giraffe!" Dean shouted into the receiver, followed by a thud and a stressed laugh as, John guessed, Sammy shoved him.

"No? Ok, well, if you hear anything, please let us know! - No, no the research comes first - yes - thank you so much Bobby, bye!"

More wrestling noises, this time a disgusted yelp of "Dean!" preceding his eldest once again greeting a hunter on the phone. John tuned them out now, satisfied they were asking all the right questions of all the right people. His job, he noted to himself, was not so straight forward. The number of times Sam had appeared bleeding and/or dying numbered too many to count off hand, and he hadn't exactly been keeping track of which blood spatter or pool came from which incident. As a result, some could have been from visits they were aware of, while others were old enough to have definitely been there before they rented the room, and still more looked fresh enough to have occurred while they slept. John groaned as his limbs creaked - he definitely wasn't as young as he used to be - and he knelt to study the closest dried blood pool. If the alternate Sam didn't appear soon, this might end up being an even longer day than the day before.

* * *

An hour later, the three Winchesters slumped in various positions around the room: John, head bowed and hands clasped together with his elbows resting on his knees, Dean, slumped over the phone on the table in a seat next to it, and Sam, legs dangling off the bed beside his father even as he lay back and stared at the ceiling. The boys had quickly exhausted the hunter phonebook, as no one had any new information right on hand. All agreed to keep an eye out, and some could do research, but nothing happened immediately. John gave up his goal of dissecting the carpet and surrounding area when they finished. There was no way, he realised, to tell when the blood arrived. Nothing stood out. Unless - until, John corrected himself - until Sam travelled again, whether or not his alternate son lived would be a mystery.

"Get up," John said quietly. Dean's head cocked and Sam twitched, but otherwise neither gave any sign they heard him. "Get up," their father repeated, sitting straighter himself. "Dean, open my journal to a new page. We're going to list everything we know, and then we're going to make a list of everything that we can change now. Sam may not be here now, but you can bet when he returns it will be to a better world than he left it."

His boys - and they were just boys, John noted with a twinge of regret - sat up slowly, but when Dean reached for the journal and Sam moved to join him at the table, it was with a newfound strength and purpose that he could only hope they continued to hold throughout the years.


	27. Peace of Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm gonna be busier than usual tomorrow, so I'm posting this chapter early.
> 
> I do not own Supernatural.

The impala was silent as they rolled up to the house. Looking at it, Dean could almost understand why John hadn't returned this entire time: calm colour, white picket fence, col de sac neighbourhood, it was the kind of house you found in every story about every typical American kid ever. It was the kind of house that screamed both safety and illusion of security at the same time, and it was only too easy to see just the former.

Movement drew Dean's eye, then, and he saw a face he'd only seen through social media stalking, and even then only recently: young and innocent, free of any terror of the night as he raced down the street and through the front door of the house. Adam Milligan. His youngest brother. In that moment, Dean understood his father completely, and only a look at the journal beside him stopped him from stomping on the gas and turning Baby around.

* * *

_Twenty-Two Hours Earlier:_

_John flipped the journal open to a blank page and poised a pen above it. Asking the question 'what do we know' provoked a flurry of responses, ranging from visions for reasons unknown to being Lucifer's vessel. John wrote them down as fast as he could, aiming more for quantity than any specific order. He saved that for his second question: What can we change now, and how?_

* * *

Sammy climbed out of the back of the impala stiffly. He had been unable to sleep their last night in the motel, too preoccupied with thoughts of the future and his older self. The hum of the engine mixed with his brother's humming along to classic rock, on the other hand, had quickly lulled him to sleep. Now, wiping sleep from his eyes, Sammy observed the kind of house he had wished to grow up in. Wished, because after everything the other Sam had revealed Sammy would never leave his family again. Not for Stanford, not for Jess, not for anything. He wouldn't risk his family dying without him by their side.

* * *

_Twenty Hours Earlier:_

_The first order of business, they all agreed, was meeting the Milligans and warding their house. The second would be summoning and killing Lilith. Nothing else could be solved without more knowledge or time._

* * *

John sat still as he watched his youngest son through the window, glad now that he had used the trip as practice for Dean on long road trips. Being paralysed behind the wheel the moment he glimpsed Adam would not have been good. At the sound of a solid thud as Sam and Dean shut their car doors simultaneously, John jolted and began to move. He may not have to tell Kate of the supernatural, but he did have a job to do to keep her and their son safe.

* * *

_Eighteen Hours Earlier:_

_One point of contention that quickly rose was that of their mother. Why not move up part of the timeline, Dean argued. Destroying the Mark would prevent him from ever becoming a demon and release the Darkness. Sibling counselling between her and God couldn't possibly be that hard._

_It wasn't worth the risk, John snapped. Not now and likely not ever. The Winchesters would not risk the Apocalypse, not even for Mary._

_Sammy grimaced, but said nothing._

* * *

When they got to the door they all stood there, just looking at it, for thirty seconds. Sam eventually reached out and rang the doorbell. He hoped a knock of his shoulder against Dean's, the movement ending with him leaning slightly against his father, shook them out of their dazes. He couldn't do this on his own.

Adam opened the door, grinning toothily up at them as he greeted them, and John did his best to keep breathing. He'd had trouble with that a lot in the past two days, between all these visits and revelations and now, the son he never met standing right in front of him. The missing top two centre teeth struck home the fact he'd missed Adam's entire childhood.

"Hey, Adam," Dean grinned back, hoping the shakiness he felt didn't show. "Is your mom home?"

* * *

_Sixteen Hours Earlier:_

_John sent them all to bed after an early dinner. They would leave the motel in seven hours to drive through late night and early morning, he said, and they would have to trust that whoever was responsible for Sam's dimensional travel would bring him to them wherever they were. Dean thankfully passed out quickly; the thought that he might have been wrong to make Sammy wait, that they would never get the chance to ask the other Sam about Mom, ending its circling._

* * *

The moment Kate Milligan saw John, she sent Adam to play in the backyard. Sam wondered why, but quickly realised the answer as the mother used the opportunity to yell at the father without their son in the room. What are you doing here, where have you been and how dare you just show up after eight fricking years, you better be here to stay or you'll never see Adam again!

The rant finally stopped after several minutes, Kate blinking in surprise as, the anger no longer clouding her sightline, she noticed the two teenagers in her hall. "Come into the kitchen," she said. "You boys can have a piece or two from the candy jar while John tells me who you are and what you're doing here."

* * *

_Twelve Hours Earlier:_

_What if he had just stayed awake, Sam wondered. Would they know more than they did? Would he have seen his other self one more time? Why hadn't he just stayed awake? Why hadn't any of them?_

* * *

When Kate found out Sam and Dean were her son's half-brothers, she pulled them into hugs, sat them down at the kitchen table, and proceeded to fix them a 'proper breakfast', as she put it. While the eggs and bacon finished, and they dug into the toast, Kate called Adam in. Crouching down to put an arm around his shoulders, she gave him a smile, pointed at them, and announced, "Adam, these are your older brothers Dean and Sam. Next to them is your father, John Winchester."

* * *

_Nine Hours Earlier:_

_They left the motel on schedule. They left the bloodstains where they were._

* * *

"Hello, Adam," John murmured. "It's good to finally meet you."

The seven year old regarded the big, scruffy looking man with curiosity, then said with finality, "You too. Do you wanna play catch? Dean and Sam can play too. Mommy trie _th_ , but  _th_ e  _th_ ays  _th_ e doesn't have good 'hand-eye-coordination'."

John beamed, and after a quick glance to check with Kate, nodded ok.

"We'll join you soon," Dean reassured his youngest brother. Once the two are gone, he turned to Kate and grinned, "Adam has the exact same lisp Sammy did without those teeth."

Kate laughed while Sam groaned. After making sure they have everything, she went out to join her son and his father in the yard.

* * *

_Eight Hours Earlier:_

_John thought to himself, looking between Sammy curled up asleep in the back and Dean focused on driving, that they should have set a watch. He should have set a watch._

* * *

The moment Kate closed the door, Dean and Sam were out of their seats. It took awhile, and their breakfast had long since turned cold by the time they sat again, but the entire house was warded against as many things as they knew how to.

* * *

_Four Hours Earlier:_

_Dean pulled into a rest stop for snacks, caffeine, and gas. When he climbed back into the impala with red eyes, John said nothing, but the squeeze of a hand on his shoulder helped Dean breathe a little easier._

* * *

They played catch with Adam until lunch time. Kate insisted they eat as a family, but even she couldn't convince them to stay longer after that. They were Winchesters. They had work to do.


	28. You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some language, courtesy of Bobby Singer.
> 
> I do not own Supernatural.

It took weeks of research and quite a few favours called in, but eventually they learned Daniel Elkins had the Colt - which was also their only chance to kill Lilith without bringing demon blood or the Mark of Cain into the picture. After that, they just had to get it. Too bad that couldn't be so easy.

* * *

 _"_ _Vampires?!"_  Dean shouted as he whirled his machete through yet another neck. "Vampires are  _real_  and you never told us?!"

"It never came up!" John yelled back from his place back to back with Elkins.

"And you didn't think we should be prepared?" Sammy asked incredulously, working as furiously as he could on his bonds without cutting his fingers off with the knife Dean had tossed him.

"Could you Winchesters  _focus_?" Elkins asked crossly, his own machete cutting cleanly through skin and bone. "Job to do, rescue your youngest, any of that ring a bell?"

"Quite well," John said frostily as he decapitated the last vampire in the room. Dean took a moment to make sure there weren't any more about to burst through the door, and then jogged over to his brother.

"You doing ok there, Sammy?" he asked, kneeling behind him and cutting through the last strand of rope.

The fourteen year old nodded, giving his brother a brief grin before crossing over to Elkins. "Since we helped in your crusade, can we have - sorry, borrow - the Colt  _now_?"

John coughed to disguise a laugh, while Dean didn't even bother. Grinning, the elder brother said, "Come on, Elkins. We'll give it back. We just need it for one big job, and then it's yours again. And we did help you take out this nest…"

Elkins looked from one young Winchester face to another, both bearing a similar expression - though the youngest blew the other out of the water, he had no idea how people ever denied those eyes anything. Sighing, Elkins admitted defeat. "Come back to my place, and it's yours for two weeks."

* * *

Of course once they had the Colt, the Winchesters realised they had missed one crucial piece of research:  _how_  to summon Lilith. While the alternate Sam had given them a lot of details throughout the day, they imagined he had never once thought they would summon her before her time, and so the topic had simply never come up. None of them wanted to think about another likelihood: that by the time their alternates had dealt with Lilith, they had become so well versed in demonology through hunting that things like summoning had become second nature. Instead, they turned to their best ally.

"You want to what?" Bobby groused, staring at the Winchesters who had turned up on his doorstep like stray dogs.

"Borrow your demon collection for a few days," John replied, shouldering past the man. Dean followed his father, and Sam was left smiling apologetically at his other father figure.

"Big hunt, Bobby, sorry." And then he, too, slipped past a gobsmacked Bobby.

"What do you think my house is, a damn library?" Silence answered him, and the hunter slammed his front door as he stomped down the hall after the Winchesters. "You better wash those sticky fingers before you touch my books!"

* * *

That night after dinner, they all sat around the kitchen table. Sam and Dean stared at their plates, doing their best to ignore the staring contest between their father and Bobby. Eventually, the latter broke the silence. "Why're you here, John? Why're you looking into  _demons_ , of all sonsabitches? I've always known you were an idjit, but looking for demons takes the cake."

Sam and Dean looked to their father, who looked back at them even as Bobby stared at them all waiting impatiently for an answer. Looking back to Bobby, John said, "You get into this hole, Bobby, and you won't climb out again. World view changed forever."

Evenly, the older hunter replied, "When in all the years you've known me have you seen me back down, John? My world view's changed several times before now, and it'll change several more. One of 'em might as well be now."

John nodded slowly and began, "It all started a few weeks ago-"

* * *

Two days later, Dean let out a yell of excitement and held up a book in triumph.

* * *

Lilith appeared on a long, almost empty strip of highway in the middle of nowhere. A lone black muscle car sat on the tarmac. Two teenage boys sat in the back, shoulder to shoulder, while two older men leaned back against the hood. Smirking, Lilith began to move the young beauty she'd possessed forward. The enticing scent of fear surrounded her, drawing her towards the source, making her forget how she had been directly summoned. She had a feeling this would be an easy job - and then she stopped as suddenly as she had started. "What?" she hissed.

The bulkier, leather clad man stood up and walked over to her, stopping a few feet away. "That's a devil's trap at your feet," he noted. "An awfully strong one that can hold even the likes of you."

"Who are you?!" Lilith screeched, slamming her hands into the invisible force field and crooking her fingers. If it had been solid, it would have made the most terrifyingly satisfying sound. As it was, nothing happened besides her possessed body's blood pressure rapidly rising.

"Lilith, right?" the man asked. Lilith screeched and slammed her hands forward again in answer. The man smirked, and she bared her teeth back. "I'm John Winchester."

The name sparked something in her mind, sounding familiar and important in some way. Lilith's anger, however, overrode it all. "I'm going to rip you to pieces," she snarled. "The second I get out of here, you and yours are mine!"

"Good luck with that," Winchester smiled the terrifying smile of a predator with his prey's neck in-between his teeth, ready to snap down and break it. For the first time in a long time, Lilith felt a sliver of fear crawl up her spine. And then Winchester's hand came up, he sighted an old gun on her heart, and Lilith felt nothing at all.

* * *

"That's it," Sam whispered, staring out the car window at Lilith's dead body, tendrils of lightning still flashing from where the Colt's bullet had entered her body. "Lilith's dead, which means no one knows all the seals and the last one is locked forever. The Cage can't be opened, which means Lucifer never rises and the Apocalypse never happens. We did it. We changed history."

Dean nodded, wrapping an arm around him and squeezing. "We did it, Sammy."  _You'll never be possessed, you'll never lose your soul, and you'll never hallucinate the Devil. We did it, Sammy. We did it._


	29. Roadhouse Blues and Glory Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone supporting this story! I may not reply to all the comments, but know that I read and love them all.
> 
> Sorry this is later than usual; I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> I do not own Supernatural.

John and Bobby stayed up late arguing - quietly, so they wouldn't wake the boys exhausted from all the excitement of killing Lilith. The next morning, John pulled the impala into the lot of a roadhouse with minimal grumbling, a stark contrast to Bobby's triumphant grin.

"Come on, John," the elder hunter cajoled. "It'll be good for the boys."

"'Boys'?" Dean squawked from the back. "There is only one 'boy' in this car, and it's not me."

"Hey!" Sammy complained, but was distracted by a formidable woman exiting the roadhouse to stare at the impala, stance wide and arms crossed. "Uh, Dad, who is she?" Whoever she was, she looked ready for battle, and the teenage girl who came out to stand beside her did nothing to bely that image.

"That," John sighed. "Is Ellen Harvelle and her daughter Jo. They own this place, and their family has resources that, hopefully, they'll share with us."

"Despite the fact Ellen has good reason to hate your daddy," Bobby added.

John grumbled under his breath, but climbed out of the impala braced for an assault. It came like a tidal wave.

"John Winchester!" Ellen yelled, marching up to him. "What in the world made you think it was a good idea to come back around here?"

"Hello, Ellen," the eldest Winchester nodded, doing his best to appear relaxed. "I didn't, but the crazy hunter in my passenger seat did."

Her eyes turned to Bobby as he got out of the car, and she fought a smile. "Bobby Singer. Same question I asked him. You know our history -"

"He needs help, Ellen, and I've never known you to deny it to anyone," Bobby raised an eyebrow, silently asking if she was about to start now. Behind him, the back doors of the impala opened and two boys climbed out looking awfully curious about the precedings.

"Jo," Ellen said calmly. "Take John's boys in to get something to eat."

"But-"

"No 'but's, Joanna Beth. Get inside."

Grumbling under her breath, Jo obeyed her mother, beckoning Sam and Dean after her.

* * *

Ten minutes later, the teenagers all looked up from their food to see the adults coming in. "Boys," John announced. "Ellen has been kind enough to rent us her extra rooms for the next few months." Ellen nodded a hello, and then turned towards the kitchen, John and Bobby in tow. And that was that.

* * *

The Winchesters and Bobby stayed at the Roadhouse for as long as they could, combing through the small collection of books Ellen had and interviewing the hunters that stopped in, searching for any information on inter-dimensional travel. Inevitably, they came up empty - all theories were just that, theories - and inevitably, they left. They couldn't sit still for long, especially when nothing came from it. They're hunters, after all. A hunter hunts.

* * *

They wiped out a werewolf pack in Illinois, a den of djinn in Missouri, a lone shapeshifter with quite the reputation as a grifter in Kansas. In Colorado they stumbled on a hibernating wendigo, Arizona brought a pack of werecoyotes, and they discovered man-eating mermaids in California. Oregon brought some kind of rock spirit that even Bobby couldn't name.

Singer stayed with them long enough to reach South Dakota, but then he left for home. The Winchesters continued to work their way around the United States, never staying in one place for more than a few weeks, never slowing long enough to get attached. A year went by, then two.

John and Dean taught Sammy everything they could, and he soaked it up like a sponge. They didn't want to risk losing him like they'd lost the other Sam, and he didn't want to be a liability on hunts. The Winchesters became better than they ever had been, preparing for the apocalypse to come. Mistakes made once were never made again. Only injuries slowed them down, and even those delays didn't last long. The Winchesters didn't let them.

Another year went by, and then another. In the other world, Sam knew, at this age he had been shaking loose the bit, applying to colleges and scholarships. Not in this one. After four and a half years of solid family business, with the warnings of the other Sam hanging over them, the Winchesters had grown closer together than they had been since Mary died. None of them would risk that.

The Winchesters had, at least until the apocalypse began, found their place in the world.


	30. Lost and Found Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments! I hope you enjoy this new travel chapter with 13x01 "Lost and Found" Sam. For context, when Sam appears it's after Jack threw him and Dean across the room.
> 
> I do not own Supernatural.

After the rip in space-time closed, Sam simply stood and looked at it. He didn't look to his brothers, one dead on the ground and the other kneeling over the body. His emotions and his brain fought each other, the former wanting to break down and mourn, the latter trying to focus on dimensional travel. He didn't particularly want to deal with his emotions at the moment, so his brain took over.

The fact Lucifer's son had managed such a thing… the power was greater than the archangels. Assuming he didn't have control of that power, their only hope to get their mom back would be finding whoever sent Sam across dimensions time and time again. Nodding to himself, Sam finally moved. To find the one responsible, they first had to deal with things here. That could take awhile, so it was best they moved quickly.

* * *

The Winchesters were on a hunt when it happened. Sam, who had finally hit his growth spurt at the age of nineteen, much to his own delight and Dean's dismay, carried the bag with all the supplies for ridding the woods of a serial killer's spirit. John and Dean guarded him on either side with guns, filled with rock salt bullets, held at the ready. No matter how ready they were, though, nothing could stop them from jumping when a large body flew past them to slam into a tree, upon which it fell to the ground with a groan. Within seconds, Sam reached the body of, he suspected, the latest victim of the spirit, while John and Dean fell back to cover them. "Are you o -?" Sam gaped in surprise at the body before him as it sat up. "Sam?"

"Sam?" Sam echoed back, blinking up at his younger alternate self, who was much older than in all the visits before. Looking around, he saw that wasn't the only thing that had changed. "Where are we?"

"Where are  _we_?" Dean laughed, abandoning his post to grasp his older younger brother by the upper arms and heave him upright. "Where have  _you_  been? It's been five years, we thought you were dead!"

"Five years?" Sam repeated, bewildered. "But it's been less than a year since my last trip!"

John, stuck as guard considering the dangerous territory they were in, tossed over his shoulder, "If the rules of your visits have changed, then it means the one controlling them has changed their game."

"Maybe…" Sam murmured, obviously deep in thought. "I confronted Chuck - God - about all of this two years ago, and He claims to have nothing to do with all of this, but also that He knows who  _is_ responsible. Though He refuses to tell me."

"Your point?" John asked.

"If God is the only one with the power to do this alone, then it must be a group's combined power, right? And it's always harder to change the mind of a group. I don't think whoever's responsible changed the game so much as gave you a break from it. It's like Monopoly, so long that you have to put it down eventually, but you can always go back to it."

"If that's true," Dean grumbled, "then why did he have to pick it up again in the middle of a hunt?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know everything. I don't even remember this hunt."

"You never went on it," the younger Sam pointed out. "It's been five years, remember? You were at college by now, but I chose to stay with the family business."

Alternate Sam's eyes widened, and he breathed, "You're changing things?  _Successfully_  changing things?"

"Adam and his mom are protected," Dean confirmed, "and we've killed Lilith. Sammy never met Jess, so she won't die. We got the Colt early. We haven't killed the Yellow-Eyed Demon yet, though, 'cause you never gave us his name."

"Azazel," Sam muttered instinctively, staring at his alternate family distractedly. "I can't believe… the number of times Dean and I tried to change things… I mean, I thought you might be able to, but I don't think I ever really  _believed_ it was possible. This is incredible."

"How's your dimension doing?" John asked. "Everyone doing ok?"

Sam blinked and nodded, biting back the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. A day before, it wouldn't have been a lie, but now… everything was not ok. Cas and Jack's mother both died and his own mother was trapped in an alternate dimension with Lucifer, but he wouldn't tell them that. Jack would never even be born in their dimension, not if they changed everything correctly. There was no point in them worrying.

Looking at them, he saw he had fooled his alternate self. Dean and his alternate father, on the other hand, eyed him suspiciously but said nothing. They had learned, Sam thought thankfully, not to push when he lied calmly. And then they disappeared from view, replaced by an older Dean and an empty room. He could only pray his alternate family figured out the future by themselves. With everything they had changed, even he couldn't give them all the answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been extremely busy lately, and unfortunately might not have a chapter ready to post next week. I will do my best, but if it doesn't happen the regular update schedule will pick up in two weeks.
> 
> Edit 1/10/18: I'm so sorry for not updating in the last month. I thought I'd be able to write this holiday season, but between life in general, joining new fandoms, re-submerging myself in an old fandom (thank you Merlin), and a lack of motivation for this fic, it just didn't happen. Despite being the first fanfic I've ever had a real schedule for before (seriously, closest I ever got before was a once a month update), this fic is something I write for fun. I'll be catching up on SPN soon, which will hopefully reignite my motivation to write and result in an update soon. Once again, I'm sorry, and I hope our regular update schedule can resume soon!
> 
> Edit 3/9/18: I have not abandoned this fic. It will be updated eventually, I'm just not sure when. Thank you all for your patience.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Please comment, they give me inspiration and motivation for new chapters.


End file.
